flo

garrett's bed is too soft, and he has too many pillows. it all hugs your body in a way that makes you feel as if you are sinking into an abyss. in honesty, you wish that it would swallow you whole. there is this deep desire within you to disappear entirely. to be taken into that abyss and escape all that the world around you had to offer.

it had been two days already, and you were trying to do just that by locking yourself in garrett's room and refusing to come out. tucker made you multiple meals, all delivered to the room by garrett, but you had barely eaten them. rather, you just picked at the plate why your brother watched before saying your were full and laying back down.

the last time that you had been consumed like this was when you realized that your fathers cruelty also extended to you. when garrett wasn't there to stop the hand as it slammed against you. a cruel twist of fate, and a rude awakening that sent you spiraling. it was foolish, then, to believe that you were an exception. that the way your mothers eyes laid within your sockets nor your brothers promise of protection would save you from the inevitable.

laying in your brothers bed with the bruises on full display, you realize the inevitable once more. the ending of your prophetic life. it was always going to be this.

the knock on the door is light, and you almost don't hear it over the sound of your own thoughts. the knock happens again, but this time it is followed by the door slowly creaking open. your eyes lift from where they were fixed on the wall, and you meet garrett's. he pauses in the doorframe then, and you let out a soft sigh, "this is your room, gar," you say gently then, "you don't have to knock."

he shrugs then as he crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed next to you. his eyes linger on the bruise that had formed on your cheek from the other day. when you shift to sit up, tugging your knees to your chest, his eyes fall to the bruises on your arms. his eyes stay there for a moment, eyebrows creasing and emotion brooding behind his eyes.

the intensity of his gaze causes a shiver to run up your spine, and suddenly you feel subconscious. gently, your arms cross in front of you, and your hands begin to rub up and down on your bare arms. the bruises hurt when you touch, but it's an easier pain to choke down than the feeling of your brother watching you.

"i should have seen it," he says then, voice low and heavy as he speaks. his eyes fall from where they were and focus on the mattress for a moment. it's hard to gauge how he was feeling, which was strange given that you could always tell how he was feeling.

when his eyes flicker up to you then, you can finally make sense of how he was feeling. there was anger placed right behind his gaze. a hard lump forms in your throat then as you look at him. the words seem stuck just behind that lump, and you try to swallow it down to allow yourself the chance to speak.

a hand wipes at your eyes then before you stutter out, "i-- i didn't let you." the admission lands flat between the two of you. the crease in his eyebrows only deepen then, and you can feel the anger bubbling off of him then. he isn't angry with you, and you know that. it was just garrett felt anger so easily. it was his first gut response, and it was hard to rewire that instinct. "and you--," you start, eyebrows furrowing, "i don't think you wanted to see it."

his body goes tense then, and his eyes advert from your own. there is a muscle in his jaw that seems to flicker, and you watch as his throat bobs right along side it. there is a silence that settles between you for a moment, and for the first time in your life it feels uncomfortable. it settles awkwardly between you, and you don't know what to do with that.

then, suddenly, his voice breaks through, "i'm sorry," he says gruffly. your head snaps up to meet his gaze, and your eyebrows are furrowed so deeply that you worry it may cause a permanent crease, "i promised to protect you and i didn't."

tears well at your eyes, and you push the palm of your hand against your right eye to push them back. then, you swallow hard before you say, "how could you have?" his eyes connect with yours and there is pain in them, a pain that feels familiar to you. the same look in his eyes that he would give your mother. "you didn't know, and if you had then... then you would have protected me, i know that."

a hand runs through his hair as a sigh escapes him then. garrett doesn't acknowledge what you say, but rather just says "tucker made mac and cheese like mom used to," and he pushes himself up off the bed as he continues, "come have dinner with us, yeah?"

you look at him for a moment, hugging your torso more intensely for a moment. you hadn't left this room in the two days that you had been there. everyone continued to live their lives around you, moving around and existing as if you weren't holed up in the room. for a moment, you consider letting them continue as such.

however, then your eyes land on garrett and the way his hand is stretched out towards you beckoning for you to get up. a soft sigh escapes you before you reach for his hand and allow him to pull you, "just mac and cheese?," you ask then, and he laughs in response.

"i think he made barbecue chicken as well."

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿

the warmth of the mocha seeps through the foam cup and into your hands. it seems to bring warmth and life back into your cold, anxious body. tucker sits next to you, back pressed against the couch as he texts someone on his phone. when the door chimes, you both snap to look at who walking through it.

it wasn't luke.

luke was 15 minutes late. you wonder if he will show at all. he had spent the past five days texting and calling you, leaving you a string of voicemails that ranged from anger to apologetic. when you had finally texted him back, telling him to meet you here, it was luke who set the time.

he wasn't usually late, and you figured this had to be a power play. luke, once again, showing you who held the control in this situation.

the door chimes again, your head snaps, and this time it is luke. his face goes from lazy boredom to anger the moment that his eyes land on you. his eyes flicker from you to tucker, and then back again. luke doesn't stop to order a coffee, but rather beelines towards the corner where you and tucker sat. the two of you take up the couch, and so he finds his spot in a chair across from you.

"you're not going to order?," you ask then, tucker looking at you from the corner of his eye as you speak. from the corner of your own eye, you see him put his phone into pocket and pick up the coffee cup that was in front of him.

luke watches tuck carefully then, eyes tracking his every moment before they slide to you, "i'm fine," he states bluntly. his jaw seems to tense, a muscle in it flickering every few seconds. then there is that demon in his eye again, it flickers just for a moment behind his glare.

a sharp exhale leaves you then, and you lift your own cup to your lips taking a small sip. his eyes bore into you then, and the intensity causes you to flinch slightly under his gaze. "right," you say then, back straightening as you speak. "well, thank you for meeti--"

he cuts you off, "just say what you want to say."

the abrasive nature of his words causes you to suck in a sharp breath. it holds in your throat for a moment before you force it down. a moment of silence, and your eyes shift to tucker. his eyebrows are knit together, and his glare hasn't lifted from luke since the moment that he walked in.

you wished garrett was here. wished for the ability to hold his hand and find strength in it.

instead, your hand grips onto your foam cup even tighter. the warmth of the drink seeping into your skin, and you exhale a deep, grounding breath. "i'm breaking up with you, luke," you state bluntly, letting the words slam in between the three of you.

luke, to his credit, never let his face falter. he remains nearly unchanged, but you can see the way that muscle begins to work again in his jaw. "no," he says through gritted teeth, "you're not."

tucker's spine straightens then, and you can see the anger that overtakes his face then. there is a restraint in him, and you find it admirable. if this was any of the others, they would have leaped across the small gap and beaten him to a pulp. this is why tuck was here. though, you did wonder in this moment, how much restraint he truly had.

"yes, i am," you say then, voice stronger than you thought you were able.

his eyes snap to tucker, and there is venom laced in his words as he spits out, "what? is it because of him?"

your head snaps back, and you let confusion over take your face for a moment. was he really still on about this? did he really believe that you had cheated on him still? "no," you snap back, finding a confidence that you didn't know you had, one that was so deeply rooted in anger. "it's because of you," you finally confess, words getting quieter as you add, "you hurt me, luke."

luke is silent then, but his face finally betrays him. a flash of hurt then anger overcomes him. you knew him too well that it was easy to see how he was fighting that demon within him. his hand flexing on his lap, balling into fists where they lay on his lap, "what," he snips out, words sharp and quiet. "i don't know what you are talki--"

tucker cuts him off then, "well, we are done here." his words come out with a finality that causes a comfort to wash over you. "you two are done, and we are leaving," tucker adds then, "good fucking bye, dickhead."

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿

the knock on your door still causes you to jump even though it's not aggressive. it's rather light, but not delicate. as if delicacy wasn't a word that was in their vocabulary. over the past week since your break up, every knock has you worried that it's luke. the boys had offered to let you continue staying at their house, but you craved home. craved the familiarity of it, even if this home felt slightly fractured with the new lamp that you bought to replace the broken one and the ghosts that haunt your halls.

another knock comes through and it causes a sigh to fall from your lips. you hang up the towel that was previously wrapped around your hair and make your way to the front door. you look out the peep hole first, ease overcoming you as you spot logan on the other side. the door opens wide then, and you hold onto it as you look at him with an unamused gaze, "can i help you?"

there is a smirk on his face as he pushes past you and into your apartment. your head swivels to watch him in bewilderment before closing the door and allowing your whole body to shift and follow him to the couch. logan doesn't sit, but rather just leans against the couch with his arms crossed in front of him, "you have to pack," he says casually, as if it was common knowledge before hand.

an eyebrow quirks up then as you ask, "why?"

logan shrugs before adding, "because we are driving to the beach this weekend."

there is a pause that settles between you as you work through what he said. it didn't make sense given that it was winter, and you lived in the northeast. yes, the beach was just a drive away, but why would anyone go to the beach? it was cold and raining, and that couldn't be fun for anyone. "what?," you say then in a harsh, confused tone. "it's winter, logan," you add then.

he shrugs again, "and?," the question coming out flat and nonchalant. "we have the weekend off, and g already booked the house. so, get packed."

perhaps if you had more energy, you would argue. you tell him about how you have your own life and can't just drop everyone to go on an impromptu trip to beach. however, you don't have the energy, and you know it would be a lie. so, instead, you just pack your bag and head for the beach. maybe it would be fun, maybe it could make you forget everything.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿

the house at the beach was small and quaint. everyone immediately felt as ease the moment they stepped pass the door. even you felt that sharp edge inside your own chest dull. the night went on as every night with them did. tucker cooked, everyone drank, and eventually they wandered off to their own rooms. sleep barely touched you. you were up and down every couple of hours until eventually giving in at 8am.

the halls were quiet as you escaped your room and made your way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. as the pot does its work, you find yourself staring out at the ocean focusing on the way that it ebbs and flows. there is a sense of calm that over takes you as you watch the water come and go. a calm that you hadn't felt in weeks, perhaps even years.

the coffee pot beeps signaling that it's done, and you pour yourself a cup. after your first sip, you make your way out to the small back porch that overlooks the beach. another sip, and then you lean against the railing and focusing on the waves once more.

footsteps approach, and they slightly disturb the calm that you felt in the moment. however, you still keep your eyes glued to the waves as you take another drink from coffee. then, a body settles in next to yours, leaning against the railing and allowing their elbow to press against your arm.

"it's nice, isn't it?," logan asks then, head tilting towards you as he speaks.

you turn to him then, a soft smile on your face, "it is," you say gently as you raise your mug to your lips. then you turn to face the water again "i always loved--"

"the beach?," he cuts in, a smile on his face as he turns away from you then. the way he cuts you off causes confusion to flicker across your face, eyebrows knitting together as it does. logan must realize, because he lets out of a laugh, "it's why i told g that we should all come here," he adds then, "to help you feel better."

there is a beat of silence then, and you take another sip from your coffee before turning your body fully to face him. you take him in then, hair messy from sleep and his face still a little bit puffy around his eyes. the sweatpants that he choose hang loosely around his body, and the briar u hoody with the arms cut off shows off the muscle of his arms.

"this was your idea?," you ask finally, cutting through the silence and forcing yourself to look him in the eye instead of taking him in fully.

his body turns towards you then, and he takes a step closer as he shrugs, "of course i did." as if it was the one thing that was supposed to make sense. as if it was common knowledge. another step closer, "because i do know you," he says then, eyebrows knitting together, "i know you better than i know anyone else."

And if there was one thing that he learnt, it was that you were chaos.

Not in the loud kind of way that left you with a reputation. 

It was this way that knew how to keep Logan on his feet 24/7 with you.

𝟏 “𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝,”

You were in your dorm with Allie and Hannah doing fit checks as Logan sat on your couch watching. 

He promised to take the three of you to your girls night booking as he liked making sure that you were safe. 

Hannah stood in the frame of your phone as she looked at what she was wearing “so this is actually all from their closests.” She laughed as she did a little twirl. 

You laughed as you shook your head “your shoes are yours!” You corrected as Hannah nodded “yeah these are all mine.” 

The brunette pointed to her sneakers before she pulled you into the frame “the skirt I stole from Allie and the shirt is from brandy.” A smirk spread across your face as Hannah motioned to Logan to join you in your shot. 

Logan wrapped his hand around your waist “I’ve dressed my current boyfriend today in fact.” His arm tensed around your waist. 

He turned to you with a confused expression “your current boyfriend?” He reiterated your words as you nodded with a smile. 

Hannah and Allie giggled from beside your phone “are you planning on getting another one in the future?” Logan scoffed as you caught your lower lip between your teeth trying to swallow your own laughter. 

You ran your fingers down his shirt “hey as they say the night is still young,” you teased as you pulled your attention back to the camera. 

You did everything to not laugh “wow never in my life have I been so offended.” That broke the girls as they were now losing it on the other side of the camera. 

That made Logan clock what was going on “I hate you.” He grumbled as he shook his head making you laugh as well.

You grinned as you cupped his jaw “you love me.” You mumbled as he stuck his tongue out before he kissed you. 

Allie crossed her arms “you better not try to keep her tonight.” Her warning made Logan shake his head.

He laughed as he let his hand settle on your waist “oh no this one is your problem tonight.” He announced as he patted your hip.

𝟐 “𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫?”

You were sat on Logan’s bed as he came out of the bathroom “baby can you call my phone f’me? I can’t find it.” He had a towel wrapped around his waist. 

You nodded as you threw your phone to the bottom of his bed as you looked up from your laptop. He used your password to unlock it before he typed in his number.

Then he frowned

“Wait.”

You  barely looked up “what?” You cocked your head as he sat down on the foot of his bed. 

He turned your phone to face you “why am I saved as John Logan in your phone?” He furrowed his eyebrows as it got your attention.

You placed your laptop next to you as you leaned up to sit closer to him “because that’s your name silly.” You rested your chin against his shoulder.

Logan laughed as the sensation made his squirm “yeah but that’s so formal.” He whined as his lips formed a pout. 

You actually laughed at the sight “you want me to save you as Prince Charming or something?” You proposed as he thought about it seriously for a second.

And then he nodded.

“Maybe I should just save you as an unknown number?”

There was a pause before he shook his head “you’re just mean.” You laughed as you stood up.

You shrugged, “it’s more mysterious.” As you wriggled your eyebrows, Logan pulled you onto his lap.

“You’re one update away from me blocking you.” 

His warning made you laugh as you stuck your tongue out at him.

You smiled, leaned in, and kissed his cheek before you grabbed your phone from his hand. 

You were quick to type something before you showed it to him “happy?” 

‘𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝙻𝚘𝚐𝚊𝚗’ 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 ‘𝙼𝚢 𝙼𝚊𝚗 💙’

“Very.”

𝟑 “𝐈’𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠,”

You were at practice, sitting in the bleachers in his hoodie, legs swinging as you watched the guys skate drills.

He came out of the locker room as he had his bag slung over his shoulder.

His breath was heavy, hair messy, looking annoyingly good in that effortless way that always made you forget your point for a second.

But not this time.

You pointed vaguely pointed to the group of lower-class men behind Logan “the guy with the dark hair,” you said casually “he’s kind of my type.”

John didn’t even turn around “you mean Carter.” His face turned into a sharp scowl as he heard the younger boys making a joke behind him. 

You nodded as you slotted your phone into the pocket of your hoodie “yep.” You had to admit that if you were a freshman and single, you genuinely would have thought that the dude was hot. 

He looked like a younger version of Logan which is why you found this so funny “you don’t even know him.” Logan deeply inhaled through his nostrils as he grumbled.

You shrugged as you licked your lips “I am just saying,”that’s when he slowly turned his head toward you.

Logan sucked at his teeth “you’re joking right?” He was practically weighing up the cost of what his bail money would be if he hit Carter.

You shrugged, “am I?” There was a beat of silence.

Then he stopped walking “that’s it.” He announced as he shook his head 

“What?”

Logan sharpened his gaze back to the younger teammates “we’re leaving. I’m transferring teams. Maybe we’re moving countries.”You laughed as he hoisted you over his shoulder making you squeal.

He started walking the two of you out of the rink “you are a nightmare god.” He was genuinely considering relocating his entire life out of spite.

Or possibly throttling Carter into fear to avoid you for the rest of his life.

Carter never found out he was nearly responsible for a national hockey scandal.

𝟒 “𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞,”

After Dean swore that you and Logan were the worst when it came to PDA. 

And as you had a thing for proving the blonde boy wrong, you set yourself up on a challenge. 

You wanted to see just how long it would take Logan to realise if you swiped his kisses. 

Dean believed that Logan wouldn’t make it past 5 pm but you decided to back your boyfriend more than that “but you can’t avoid him all day then!” Dean pointed out as he watched Logan walk into the cafeteria. 

You smiled as you got up “luckily for me I have a class in ten minutes.” You shot back as you stuck your tongue out at the blonde. 

Logan dropped his bag into the seat where you were just sitting “hey pretty girl.” Logan smiled as he leaned down to kiss your lips. 

You swerved letting his lips grazed your cheek “hey babe I gotta go!” You patted his cheek before you ran off. 

It left Logan a little confused as he watched you run off “that was a little weird right?” Logan motioned to you as your body disappeared into the crowd. 

Dean shook his head as he ate a carrot stick “not a clue what you’re talking about.” The second rule that you two came up with was that, neither one of you could hint that there was a bet going on. 

By the time 2 pm came around Logan was waiting outside of your building after class “hey there princess.” Logan walked towards you with a smile as he reached for your hand. 

You matched his facial expression as you leaned up to kiss him before you remembered what was going on “hi handsome.” You awkwardly shifted into giving him a hug. 

As Logan patted your back, he almost wondered if he was just dreaming “the guys are waiting back at the house.” His announcement came as he mentally went through the previous events of the day as he was concerned he pissed you off. 

You pulled away with a smile “perfect,” you squeezed his hand “shall we go?” You asked as you cocked your head. 

Dean watched how you dodged Logan throughout the next few hours. 

If you were any decent with a pair of skates, Dean would have proposed that he got you on the team. With the way you had been side stepping Logan, it was almost impressive. 

Logan however, lacked the sentiment as you excused yourself to go to the bathroom “is it just me or is she being weird?” Logan spoke up as Dean celebrated.

But his cheering fell short when he realised that it was in fact 5:01 pm, what made your boyfriend even more confused was that you were running down the stairs cheering. While Dean sat with his head in his hands. 

The brunette motioned between the two of you “okay what is going on between the two of you?” Logan asked as you marched over to him.

Your hands cupped his cheeks “god I love you.” You pulled him into a kiss that was so strong the two of you actually fell onto the couch. 

Logan wasn’t going to complain as his hands steadied himself on your waist “god I hate it when she’s right.” Dean’s grumble was enough to make Logan pull away from you. 

He cocked his head, making you sigh, “we had a bet that if I didn’t kiss you, you couldn’t last until five PM before you brought it up.” Your announcement made him laugh. 

Logan stood up as he pulled you up with him “so that’s why you didn’t kiss me,” he spoke as he cocked his head. 

You nodded now feeling somewhat bad until Logan wrapped his arms around your waist “if you boys will excuse us, we have some making out to catch up on.” His eyes flickered with mischief as the boys groaned. 

Garrett shook his head “turn that up so we drown them out.” He grumbled, tapping Tucker’s shoulder as he pointed to the tv while Logan led you upstairs.

𝟓 “𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞?”

You were sat in the kitchen as Tucker cooked dinner for the group. 

Logan was propped up on the counter as Garrett sat next to you “oh my god babe you wanna know what I saw?” You asked as Logan nodded. 

He snatched a freshly cut carrot from Tucker’s chopping board, making the younger boy swat his hand away “Dean is on hinge!” Your announcement made all three boys freeze. 

While Tucker and Garrett looked at each other, a little confused why you were on that app. Logan seemed far more curious to know what kind of prompts Dean had picked “wait show.” Logan motioned to you to hand him your phone.

When you smiled both other boys laughed finally catching onto what you were doing “nah I didn’t take a picture of it because I was so shocked, I just had to press close on his profile.” You swore your boyfriend must not have heard you properly.

But Logan shook his head “you can’t tell me that you found his profile and then not show me!” The boy whined as he walked over to you. 

His hands wrapped around your shoulders as he rested his head against yours “c’mon babe.” He dragged out the last letter of the last word making you grin. 

Logan pressed a kiss into your hair “this is just cruel and unusu-” he cut himself off as he stood up straight. 

Garrett stood up as he reached for his phone seeing that he was meant to meet Hannah for dinner “bingo.” He patted Logan’s shoulder before he left. 

Logan cocked his head as he looked at you “why are you on hinge?” He turned your body towards him. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to hold back a laugh “I just like to see who is single.” You nodded to yourself, earning a laugh from Garrett before he left the room. 

Your boyfriend cocked his head as he furrowed his eyebrows, “so is your profile like just you or?” He trailed off making you scoff “John Logan do you seriously think that I’m on a dating app to find us a throuple?” 

Your words made Tucker cough as he packed up, laughing “I mean you’ve always said you wanted to try something.” Logan shrugged as he kissed your cheek. 

You scoffed as you gasped, “yeah like positions in your bed, not who is gonna watch.” Tucker had opted to slowly slip out of the room as he was no longer interested in listening to this conversation. 

Logan tucked your hair behind your ear “who said anything about them watching?” His smirk strengthened as your cheeks reddened. 

It wasn’t often that you were speechless but in this moment you actually didn’t know what to say “should I be concerned that you actually seemed turned on by this?” You cocked your head as you pursed your lips together.

Your boyfriend laughed as he shook his head “you’re the one finding my friends on hinge.” Logan taunted as he pinched your side. 

You rolled your eyes “I don’t have a damn hinge account!” You groaned making him smile.

Logan wrapped his arms around you as you stood “good,” he mumbled as he pecked your lips “for the record I like having you all to myself.”

+ 𝟏 “𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝,”

The group was all in the living room as the boys played the NHL video game in the tv while Logan and you were on a beanbag “thanks.” He sent you a smile as he pulled you on top of him as you handed him a water bottle. 

He pressed a kiss against your cheek making you grin “you two make me sick.” Garrett gagged seeing the two of you from the corner of his eye. 

It made you laugh as you stuck your tongue out at him “oh babe?” Logan spoke up as he scrolled on his phone. 

You turned back to face him “my ex texted me today.” He spoke casually, still not looking at you. 

You blinked slowly as your throat constricted “your what?” Your face turned as if you had just eaten a lemon.

You hadn’t noticed that the boys paused the tv to focus on you both as you were too concerned, and kept scrolling on his phone.

“Ex.”

You stared at him like he had grown three heads “for what?” You didn’t want to jump to conclusions but in that moment, you were teetering on the edge. 

Logan shrugged “she was checking in.”You felt your face go flat as there was little left in your reserve to bite your tongue.

Part of you wondered if when you went to the kitchen to get water, if you were dropped in some alternate universe “oh, that’s sweet,” you said slowly, your body tensed as you prepared your next question “did you reply?” It felt like a penny could have dropped in that moment and it would have echoed through the house.

He shrugged as he bounced his foot “yeah,” there was silence as you sat up a little.

Tucker swore he watched you crack your knuckles a little “you replied.” You couldn’t miss the scowl on your face as you rolled your eyes.

“Mhm.”

Now he looked at you, like he was trying not to smile “and what did you say?” You struggled to understand what rock Logan had hit his head with to assume that you’d be totally fine with him chatting all to his ex like it was nothing. 

He leaned back running his fingers through his hair “I just said hi,” he shrugged as you finally scoffed because that was it.

Something in you snapped instantly “oh, perfect,” you said, standing up “that’s great. I love that. So glad we’re doing this.”

“Doing what?”

You grabbed your bag as you stopped to look at him“whatever this is. Whatever situation I’ve apparently been invited into.” Part of you didn’t know if you were about to commit murder or just burst into tears.

Now he was definitely smiling “you’re jealous.” He pointed out as he stood up crossing his arms in the process.

Your lips formed a sharp line “I’m not jealous.” You grumbled as it made you stop what you were doing.

Logan looked at your bag “you’re literally packing up your things.” Half the stuff that you had thrown into it was stuff that you used to just leave at the house. 

Dean had to admit he didn’t think that you had so many chargers at theirs “I’m going home.” You corrected Logan as you rolled your eyes.

“With my hoodie.”

A wicked laugh escaped your lips “oh you won’t need it where you’re going,” you snapped and that finally broke him.

He laughed like actually laughed and it was enough to make you clench your teeth.

And still he laughed again “babe,” he said, still grinning, “I don’t have an ex.”

You froze as your hands landed on your hips as your bag fell to the floor “huh?” You cocked your head as you were trying to keep the words that came out of your mouth appropriate.

“I made it up.”

You stared at him for a full five seconds and the boys swore that Logan must have gone too far “you are so dead,” you went to hit his chest but instead he pulled you into his arms.

He kissed your knuckles, still laughing “karma is a bitch huh?” Logan teased you as he ran his thumb over your cheek.

Dean rolled his eyes as he rubbed his knee “you two make me sick.” He fake gagged as he shook his head. 

When Logan grabbed a pillow off of the couch and threw it at the blonde.

As you laughed, you knew that you couldn’t even stay mad for long.

Because John Logan looked way too happy watching you lose your mind over him.

And you hated that you liked that part the most.

As Briar University’s lead sports reporter, you were obligated to attend as many sports events as possible. Oftentimes, you rode the bus with them to avoid being caught up trying to coordinate ride plans elsewhere, tonight being no different.

Directly behind you, you heard none other than John Logan mutter, “Could your phone be any fucking brighter? Some of us are trying to get some rest here instead of checking social media for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes.”

You shifted in your seat until your head was facing the aisle. “Can I help you with something, Johnny? I forgot you need your 12 hours of beauty sleep to look at least halfway decent.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He scoffed. “And I told you to stop calling me Johnny. That’s reserved for people I actually like, not spoiled brats who think they’re better than the rest of us.”

That was one of the bigger problems that put you in the situation you were trying to work your way through. Once upon a time, you and Logan had truly been very close. You’d hang out often, sharing notes and conversations in between busy schedules.

One night and a little too much alcohol later, Jules caught you in a bad spot. The Hawks had lost a particularly tense matchup 2-1, with Logan specifically losing the puck more often than he usually did.

“So,” Jules started, sidling up to you at the kitchen island. “How do you think my brother did tonight?”

“Oh, I think he did great.” You slurred, colors blending as the room spun. “I know he messed up a few times, but he’s a great player…hic he’ll get ‘em next time.”

“So, you think my brother made some pretty big mistakes?” Jules teased, thoroughly amused with your drunken state.

“No, no, I never said that. Sure, that one blocked play he tried was pretty predictable, but they all kind of did the same things out there so it’s not his fault at all. He’s a great hockey player and I believe in him.”

You hadn’t noticed that Jules had been live on Fifth Line’s Instagram the entire time. Somehow, your words had been twisted beyond repair, to the point where the next morning articles and student body alike turned it into HAS STAR PLAYER JOHN LOGAN REALLY LOST HIS TOUCH? HEAD REPORTER WEIGHS IN!

Logan stopped talking to you after the incident, choosing to believe the misleading headlines out of stress and cutting you out of his life. Interactions at games and practices were colder than the ice he skated on, awkward silences and tension noticeable to anyone around. Your relationship turned bitter quickly, making you yearn for what you once had.

With a huff, you turned back around in your seat, steam practically exploding from your ears. A petty idea popped into your head, and with a sly little smirk, you reached for the lever beside your chair.

“What the hell? Put that back up!” Logan demanded as you reclined your seat back just enough to make it uncomfortable for him.

“Well, I’m a spoiled brat, remember? Might as well act like one.”

His response was interrupted by the bus driver making a hard right to go off the highway ramp. As the driver picked up his speaker to talk, your confusion only grew. You were still over an hour away from Briar.

“Sorry, folks. We’re gonna have to stop for the night.” His admission was met with a chorus of groans and protests. “I know you all want to get out of here, but I need to be able to keep you all safe and I can’t do that without being able to see the road ahead of us. There’s a hotel just up ahead, go ahead and pair up for rooming purposes. We’ll get back on the road in the early morning.”

You tensed, realizing you were one of only three women on the bus. The other was an athletic trainer near the back, but her husband was also aboard, so they’d undoubtedly be rooming together. Hannah had also accompanied the team, but she’d be rooming with Garrett, and you certainly didn’t want to share a room with those lovebirds.

“Tuck and I will room together.” Dean shouted, shooting Logan a smirk and a wink behind you.

“Hell no. There’s no way I’m rooming with Y/N.” Logan responded, shaking his head in protest.

“Well that’s too bad, because you’re going to.” Coach Jensen told him from where he stood in the aisle, helping make room arrangements. “Either you room with the poor girl or I bench you for the next game. Just get a room with two beds.”

As you gathered your belongings and headed toward the front of the bus, you caught Logan’s, “Fucking great. Now I have to room with the girl so stuck up she sees all our flaws and rips us to shreds over them.”

“C’mon, man.” Tucker chided. “I read some of the articles and it all seems like a bunch of bullshit. She was really saying she believed in you.”

“Yeah, sure she said that, and pigs flew above us as she did. I’m just ready for this night to be over with so I don’t have to deal with her anymore.”

Your shoulders deflated, head dropping slightly at his admission. If this was how he truly felt about you, it was bound to be the longest night of your life- for all the wrong reasons.  

Each pair proceeded forward slowly toward the welcome desk, feeling more like a cattle production line with each passing minute. You certainly felt like you were being led to slaughter, especially with the dirty looks Logan kept giving you and the scathing side remarks he uttered.

You were the last pair to be greeted, staring at the visibly overwhelmed receptionist with equally as unamused stares.

“Room for two, please. Two separate beds.” Logan told her before you could even open your mouth.

“Right, let me get right on that.” As she scrolled the computer, her frown continued to deepen, eyebrows pinching together. “Oh, it looks like I just gave the last double bed away to the boys before you. There’re only single California king rooms left.”

Tucker and Dean were just in front of you, the pair that had been given the last room with two beds. Noticing the issue, Dean laughed, shaking the keys in your direction teasingly.

“No, no, there must be some mistake. There has to be a room with two beds.” You pled with the receptionist, panic rising in your chest once more.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s only single-bed rooms left. If you’d like, I can send you up with an extra pillow and blanket. We don’t have air mattresses, unfortunately.”

Logan threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Oh, well that’s just great.” He turned to Dean with fire blazing in his eyes. “Give me that key right now.”

“I think not, buddy. Tucker snores in his sleep and I can’t rest without leg room.”

Exhausted from both the long day and their antics, you put a hand on Logan’s arm without thinking. “Stop it, guys. I just want some sleep and neither of you are helping solve anything.” Logan met your gaze, and for a split second, you felt the electricity from years past crackle back to life. He looked like he wanted to eat you alive, chocolate irises becoming molten pools of desire.

Breaking eye contact, you took the blanket from the frazzled-looking employee along with the key. “Thanks for all your help with this. I know it was stressful getting all of these college students last minute.”

Turning on your heel, you headed towards the sketchy-looking elevator without saying another word, leaving Logan to follow behind you like a (begrudging) lost puppy. Yeah, this was going to be a long night, after all.

The hotel you stopped at was an older location that evidently hadn’t been updated in quite some time, but you were so tired that even sleeping on a rock sounded desirable at this point.

As you unlocked the door and entered the room, your eyes wandered with subtle distaste. A thin layer of dust occupied the corners of the room and walls, stains of unknown origin leaving marks along the carpet. You were certain that if you squinted hard enough, a thin layer of grout could be seen on every appliance available.

With a sigh, you trudged into the room, throwing your bag haphazardly in the direction of the chair near the doorway. Logan followed suit, all remaining traces of anger having momentarily left him in favor of exhaustion.

“Alright, I’ll take the floor.” He said, throwing the pillow and blanket on the empty space to the left of the bed.

“What? No, absolutely not.” You protested. “You’re a bulky offenseman who has practice in less than 48 hours. Your back will kill you; I’ll take the floor. You take the bed.”

“I’ve slept on worse things than a dusty floor.”

“Yeah, when you were a dumb high school kid.” You snapped. “Now you’re a dumb college kid, apparently.”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

“Well, somebody has to.”

Logan scoffed, defensiveness laced in his tone. “You want to talk about arrogance and stupidity? Let’s talk about what you said, then.”

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed incredulously. “I had a conversation with your sibling while I was drunk off my ass. I had no clue whatsoever that Jules was live, and just like the damn vultures they are, half the Briar student body took the negative half of what I said and ran with it.”

Logan balled his fists at his sides, “You made me look like –”

“I made you look like nothing! You took something the gossip blogs made up and ran with it without even talking to me first. I thought we were friends, John, but friends don’t turn on each other like that. Only cowards do.”

A charged silence followed between the two of you, gazes locked in an intense stare battle.

The AC unit came to life suddenly with a loud rattle, startling the both of you apart. Your eyes left his briefly, but his stayed on your face.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked, voice softer this time.

“Would you really have believed me?”

Your response made him look down, shoulders dropping slightly in guilt.

“Yeah, I thought so. I’m going to go shower before it gets too late; figure out whether you’re willing to sleep in bed with me like adults or if the dust bunnies will be your company on the floor tonight.”

The suspicious stains on the bathroom walls were hard to overlook and the pressure from the showerhead was less than pathetic, but the heat helped. You felt the tension in you loosening, thoughts of Logan still plaguing your mind but becoming more bearable the longer you stayed in the shower.

As you dried the last of the water droplets from your legs and stepped out of the bathroom, your breath caught in your throat at the sight that awaited you.

Logan had stripped himself of his shirt at some point, leaving the planes of his back and chest bare and open for you to ogle at. His back was turned to you as he stared out the window, bruise on his side from a particularly rough game as visible as the defined abs on his chest.

“That bruise looks pretty nasty.” Your words broke him from his trance, turning around to face you.

“It’s nothing.” He dismissed.

“C’mon, let me look at it, at least. I’m pretty sure I’ve got some Tylenol in my bag if you need some pain relief.”

“It’s just a bruise. I get bruises all the time.”

“Will you just listen to me, John? Or are we going to continue this fucked up dance until we eventually just lose each other forever?”

That rendered him speechless for once. His eyes met yours, wide gaze expressing both shock and guilt.

“I miss you, John. I lost my best friend that night and for no good reason whatsoever. I tried so badly to explain, to tell you that my words were twisted beyond belief, but you were so caught up in your anger and self-pity that you threw away the best thing that happened to either of us.”

“I know, sweetheart, I do.” He approached you slowly, as if you were a wounded animal that would scatter at even the slightest of sudden movements.

“You don’t though, and that’s the problem.” You wiped the few stubborn tears that had fallen from your cheeks angrily. “I’m tired, Logan. I’m tired of fighting.”

You noticed then that the space between you had shrunk increasingly, standing merely inches apart at that point. Your sleep shirt left your collarbone exposed as you shifted, Logan’s eyes following in interest. His scent and body warmth calmed you, coaxing a confession from your lips.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I should’ve just listened to you instead of being the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.” His words were genuinely apologetic, tone dropping and eyes filled with unshed tears.

“I wanted to tell you the truth.” You whispered. “You just wouldn’t let me.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” he laughed slightly. “If I had let you explain, then I would’ve had to admit sooner how wrong I truly was for behaving in the ways I did. I was so angry over nothing that I couldn’t see straight.”

His hand came up slowly, giving you time to pull away. When he was sure you wouldn’t, Logan’s hand came to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek.

“That may be one of the most stupid excuses I’ve ever heard.”

That brought a ghost of a smile to his face as his hand wrapped around the back of your neck. His face drew closer to yours, breaths intermingling.

“Tell me to stop.” He murmured.

“You know I won’t do that.”

Your first kiss with John Logan was far from the perfect storybook moment. It was desperate, like he’d been aching to do this for far longer than he’d care to admit. His one hand found your waist, gripping it tight between his fingers, while his other hand cupped the nape of your neck.

He walked you backward slowly until you felt your back hitting the wall. He surrounded you- his scent, his body, his soul. His lips trailed the column of your throat, teeth gently grazing the most sensitive spots that made you gasp against him.

“Been waiting to do this for months.” He murmured, lips never once leaving your skin as he spoke.

“I thought you hated me.” Your response was breathy, as if a slight gust of wind would blow the statement away and leave you both wanting more.

“I wanted to, I really did.” His hands trailed up under your nightshirt, caressing gently above your ribs. His hands were warm, yet the gentleness of the action compared to his words sent a shiver up your spine regardless. “But I couldn’t. I never could bring myself to feel anything but want for you.”

“But, the article—” your words were cut off by yet another deep kiss.

“Fuck the article.” He snapped. “I don’t give a damn about some fabricated article when I’ve got everything I ever wanted standing right here in front of me.” His eyes trailed the length of your body, a mix of love and desire swirling in his eyes. “Christ, look at you.”

“Bed, now.”

He lifted you effortlessly, muscular arms circling your thighs as he led you to the bed in the center of the room. A bed that you would’ve hated to be in together an hour ago, but now only found yourself excited at the idea of sharing a bed with Logan.

“Say it again,” he groaned, setting you down gently and crawling atop you, covering every inch of your body like a blanket. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

“I swear, I never said anything like that.” You responded, hands finding his cheeks and pulling his gaze to your own intense one. “I love you, Logan.”

The smile that broke out across his face was nothing short of a brightness that rivaled the sun. Instead of responding verbally, he kissed you again, this time with a passion that knocked all the air out of your lungs and left you desperate for more.

You knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that Logan loved you back, and this unexpected union meant a fresh start. A beginning that only included warmth, desire, and love.

“Don’t think this means I forgive you just yet.” You sassed, pushing him away slightly.

“Baby, just name whatever you want me to do to make it up to you and consider it done.” He smiled, hands and mouth descending upon you once more.

“Hmm,” you teased. “I think I can come up with some ideas.”

<3

a/n: guys I am SO sorry for my mini hiatus! had a vacation and an illness set me back, but I'm back! working on more requests as we speak, but my inbox is always open! as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are all greatly appreciated.

Finals were only two weeks away, and the grind had truly begun.

Almost every uni student had claimed a spot in the libraries surrounding Briar, turning the hunt for a comfortable seat into a daily battle where the winners earned the privilege of studying for hours without being disturbed.

You'd settled into the main library, tucked away in the perfect corner where the rest of the world seemed to disappear, leaving nothing but your notes, textbooks, and the looming final exams demanding every ounce of your attention.

You'd maintained high distinctions throughout the year and planned to carry that momentum through finals.

When you and Logan first started talking, you'd quietly worry that he wouldn't understand. The endless hours, the discipline, the relentless drive to be the best. It was how you'd been raised, to chase excellence and never settle for anything less than your full potential. As it turned out, he understood better than anyone. As long as you remembered to eat, take breaks, and send him the occasional message whenever you had a spare moment, he was more than happy to cheer you on from the sidelines.

Besides, every night ended the same way. Logan would drive you back to the Hockey House, where you'd crawl into his bed together, never once falling asleep before stealing a proper cuddle with your boyfriend.

The memory of this morning crept into your mind, leaving you smiling like an idiot over a physics textbook.

The morning sun filtered through the blinds, warming your face just enough to coax you awake.

Still half asleep, you reached across the bed, expecting to find the familiar warmth of Logan beside you, only for your fingers to meet nothing but cold sheets.

A slight frown settled on your face as you pushed yourself upright, your eyes wandering around the room in search of him, only to realise he was nowhere to be found.

The bedroom door sat slightly ajar and the faint sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears before it slowly creaked open, Logan carefully slipping inside as quietly as possible, balancing a breakfast tray in both hands in an attempt not to wake you.

"You’re awake." He grinned, making his way over to the bed. “Good morning, baby.”

Your heart squeezed painfully at the sight. Logan never failed to make you feel appreciated, especially during the times when stress threatened to consume you, always finding little ways to remind you that you never had to carry it all alone.

You were convinced the Gods themselves had blessed you with a man who instinctively knew how to love you properly. The only arguments you ever seemed to have were over missing each other too much.

Your phone buzzed against the table, pulling you back to reality.

You picked it up and glanced at the notification.

Johnny Boy: wya cutie

A smile tugged at your lips as you checked the time. It was already lunchtime, and your stomach was beginning to remind you that surviving on caffeine alone wasn't exactly sustainable before another marathon study session.

You: library, but I lowk need to grab some food so I'll be at the campus cafe in a bit

His reply appeared almost instantly.

Johnny Boy: don't worry, I'm walking in now

You frowned at the message, wondering what he meant by don't worry, only for the library doors to swing open moments later.

Logan stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you, immediately lighting up as the biggest grin spread across his face.

He lifted a plastic takeaway bag in one hand before making his way over to your table.

"Got you some food, baby. Thought you might need a little care package."

He set the bag down before carefully unpacking everything inside.

Your heart clenched all over again, a grateful smile spreading across your face as you fought the very real urge to cry right there in the corner of the library. You honestly didn't know what you'd done to deserve a boyfriend this thoughtful.

He lined everything up neatly in front of you. A container of Chinese takeaway, an iced vanilla latte, and the block of chocolate you were constantly talking about whenever you needed something sweet after studying.

You were genuinely going to die from happiness.

He stood back with his hands resting on his hips, admiring his work with a grin that practically screamed how proud he was of himself for taking care of his girl.

Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead.

"You've got this, baby."

God, you loved this man.

"Hey! Earth to Captain Splash."

"What? Oh, yeah, right, I'm— uh, I'm sorry," he manages, but he's not quite concentrating yet. He is positively smitten. And he feels awful because he just soaked this poor girl's brand-new book in a puddle of rainwater.

"Thank you for the apology; my book is completely dry now," she deadpans, bending to pick up what used to be the book. A laugh escapes him despite himself. He can feel her glaring at him.

She grimaces the moment her hands touch the item. That is not a fun sensory experience. She is holding it up with her index and thumb in front of her face, assessing the damage. Yeah, that book is done for.

"Again, I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'll get you the exact same book, from the exact same place, and I'll throw in a cup of coffee as reparations."

"As long as you don't throw it at my book..." she trails off.

"Logan. John Logan."

And the rest was history.

Every day, at least once, Logan swore that you were the best thing that ever happened to him.

"You are literally the captain of the hockey team."

"Baby, I could be the president, and my point would still stand."

And that would make you blush and bury your face into his chest every single time.

You and Logan were the best part of each other's day. He'd come back from an emotionally and physically exhausting practice day, climb up your fire escape (because you didn't want to tell anyone yet), and collapse on your bed like a thirsty man who finally found a river.

You'd let him lie down on your lap and stroke his hair as he'd tell you all about his day. Sometimes you'd just let him sleep for a while, and you'd read your book, a moment of peace for both of you.

A lot of times, when he woke up, he'd be annoyed that he wasn't getting enough attention and would try every single trick in the book to get you to focus on him instead. He would whine, complain, pout, and feign heartbreak while you promised one more page.

"Logan, I swear, it's getting so good I can't stop now, but give me five minu—"

He'd bury his face into a pillow and scream.

Eventually, he'd snatch your book from your hand, put the bookmark in and toss it on the table, despite your protests, and pin you to the mattress, knocking the wind out of you.

"Baby," he'd say, in that breathy voice he knew did things to you, "I've been patient, and I think it's my turn to do some reading now." You would nod slowly, breathless, and he'd laugh before grazing your jaw with his lips, and trailing further and further down. His hands would test the waters, sliding under the hem of his your T-shirt. He'd leave marks in places only you'll know about, and you'd go crazy thinking about it all day.

It was never either of your intentions to hide each other from your friends. God, no, but what you had, it was just... yours. Just him and you. To the entire world, he was John Logan, captain of the Briar U Hawks, playboy on sabbatical, charming handyman straight out of a dirty movie, the John Logan.

But to you, he was John Logan, golden retriever in disguise, supplier of endless hoodies, brings you coffee the way you like, memorises your convoluted and frankly concerning subway orders, best kisser in the entire world (among other things), John Logan. A version of him that no one will ever know, not like you did.

To him, you were the only aspect of normalcy in his entire life. Everywhere he went, he had to be somebody. A captain, a student, a friend, a brother, a son. But with you, he didn't have to put up a front. He didn't have to pretend. Because being your boyfriend was not something he had to learn or actively do. He just... did.

You were the one place in his life where he felt like he belonged. It was like he always knew how to be in love with you; he just hadn't found you yet. Now that he had, it was like he had found purpose. That's who he was now. John Logan, man in love.

The privacy, you thought, was what made the entire ordeal special. This was beautiful, and just yours. And you both wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

And then there was that part of Logan that wanted to parade you around the campus, show you off, kiss you in front of everyone, and declare his undying love for you, god and all of Briar U as his witness.

He would unapologetically carry your stack of books whenever you were at the bookstore, and, ever the gentleman, never let you pay. Your bag was his by proxy at this point, the way he would always let it hang over his shoulder whenever you walked with him, halfway through some tangent about your latest book. And if you ever carry your own bag, god forbid, he'd look at you like you had an extra head before taking it from you.

You were deeply in love with each other.

It was a mundane day at the hockey house. Garrett had his feet up on the coffee table, controller in hand, losing spectacularly to Dean, who wasn't even looking at the screen half the time and still winning.

Tucker came through the front door, shaking rain out of his hair, and didn't bother with hello.

"Where's Logan?"

"Room," Garrett said, not looking up. "Don't bother him; dude went up like ages ago. Hasn't come out since"

Tucker paused halfway through unlacing his boots. "Let me guess. She climbed up the fire escape again?"

"Uh-huh," Dean said, eyes still on the TV, thumb working the controller. "Only tripped once this time. Progress."

"How do you even know that?"

"Window's right above the kitchen. You can hear everything. Heard her go 'shit—' real quiet, heard him go 'you good?' even quieter, and then I heard her go 'yeah, I'm fine, your stupid fire escape is a death trap,' and then nothing for like... an hour," he explained, his voice going an entire octave higher when he imitated you.

Tucker dropped onto the arm of the couch. Garrett looked up toward the ceiling like he could see straight through it to Logan's room, and he just smiled.

"Does he know we know?" Tucker asked.

"Nah," Dean said, easy, unbothered, like it wasn't even a question. "Nah, man. Let him have this."

Tucker nodded slowly, settling back, already reaching for the third controller. "Yeah. Okay. Yeah."

You leaned your shoulder against the doorframe and looked him over. The set of his jaw. The way one hand was shoved into his pocket while the other dragged over the back of his neck. The forced ease in his voice, laid on too smoothly to be real.

“Rough night?”

Something flickered across his face.

For half a second, he looked like he might deny it. You could practically see him reaching for a joke, something charming and careless enough to make you roll your eyes and let him in without asking anything else. Then his shoulders dropped, barely, like even pretending was too much work.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Something like that.”

You stepped back.

Logan came in without another word, brushing past you with the familiar clean scent of soap, cold air, and whatever detergent clung to his sweatshirt. He didn’t flop dramatically onto your bed like usual. He didn’t steal a sip from the water bottle on your desk or make a comment about how you always had the good snacks hidden somewhere. He just stood in the middle of your room for a second, looking too big and too restless for the space.

You closed the door behind him.

“Shoes off,” you said gently.

His mouth twitched. “Bossy.”

“Always.”

This time, the almost-smile reached him a little more. He kicked off his sneakers and left them near the door, then looked at your bed like he wanted to crawl into it and disappear.

You didn’t make him ask.

You climbed in first, pulling the blanket back, then held the corner up for him. Logan stared at you for a second, and there was something painfully soft in his expression before he moved. He slid into bed beside you, careful at first, like he didn’t want to take up too much room, which was ridiculous because John Logan had never known how to be small a day in his life.

You fixed that for him.

You reached for his wrist and tugged until he came closer, until his body settled beside yours and the mattress dipped under his weight. He let out a breath when you tucked yourself into him, your leg sliding between his, your knee pressing against his thigh. His arm came around your waist almost immediately, heavy and warm, pulling you in until there was no polite space left between you.

His chest pressed to yours. Your hand found the back of his neck, fingers slipping into the damp hair there. His forehead hovered near your temple before he finally let it rest against you.

For a while, neither of you said anything.

You just let him breathe.

His body was tense at first, muscles drawn tight like he was still bracing for a hit that had already happened. One of his hands spread across your lower back, then shifted, then stilled, like he couldn’t decide whether he needed to hold on or let go. You traced slow lines along the back of his neck with your fingertips, not trying to fix him, not trying to pry anything open. Just reminding him that he was there. That you were there. That the room was quiet and nothing was being asked of him.

After a few minutes, his grip changed.

It softened.

His thumb slipped beneath the hem of your shirt and brushed once over your skin, absent and careful. His face turned slightly into your hair, and the next breath he took sounded less like something he was forcing.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” you murmured. “But you can. Only if you want to.”

Logan was quiet long enough that you thought maybe he wouldn’t.

Then he said, “Practice was brutal.”

You kept your hand in his hair. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice was low, rough around the edges. “Couldn’t get my feet under me. Couldn’t finish anything. Coach was on me the whole time, which, whatever, that’s his job, but…” He stopped, exhaling hard through his nose. “I don’t know. Everything felt off. Like the second I messed up once, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and then I kept messing up because I was thinking about it.”

You nodded against him. “That happens.”

“I hate when it happens.”

“I know.”

His fingers flexed on your back.

“I’m supposed to be better than that,” he said. “I know it was just practice, but it didn’t feel like just practice. It felt like everyone could see it. Like every bad pass, every missed shot, every stupid mistake was lit up in neon.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him.

Logan didn’t meet your eyes at first. He looked past you, toward the wall, jaw working as if he regretted saying so much. In the low light of your room, he looked younger somehow. Not less handsome, because that would be impossible, but less untouchable. Less like the boy who smiled at everyone and got smiled at in return.

More like someone who was tired of being watched and still feeling unseen.

You slid your hand from his hair to his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours.

“John.”

His eyes found you.

“You work hard,” you said. “Every day. Even when you’re tired. Even when you’re frustrated. Even when nobody’s clapping for it or making a big deal out of it, you’re still showing up and trying to be better.”

His throat moved.

You stroked your thumb over his cheek. “One rough practice doesn’t erase that.”

He stared at you like he didn’t know what to do with tenderness when it was handed to him so plainly.

“And for the record,” you added, softer now, “your effort doesn’t go unnoticed. Not by me.”

The room went very still.

Logan’s eyes dropped to your mouth, then came back up again like he was trying to be good, like he was trying not to use kissing you as an escape route. But this time, it didn’t feel like running. It felt like he had been standing outside in the cold all night and you had just opened the door.

“Say that again,” he whispered.

Your heart squeezed.

“Your effort doesn’t go unnoticed,” you repeated.

His hand slid up your back, slow and firm, gathering the fabric of your shirt beneath his fingers.

“Not that part.”

You knew what he meant.

You smiled faintly. “Not by me.”

Something in him gave.

Logan kissed you carefully at first, which somehow made it worse. Made it sweeter. His mouth brushed yours once, then again, warm and searching, like he was asking whether he was allowed to need this. You answered by pulling him closer, your fingers curling at the back of his neck, and the quiet little sound he made against your lips went straight through you.

The kiss deepened slowly.

His arm tightened around your waist as your mouths opened together, the tip of his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your stomach dip. It wasn’t rushed, not yet. It was warm and aching and almost too intimate, the kind of kiss that made it impossible to pretend this was casual. His hand moved from your back to your hip, then down to your thigh, pulling your leg higher over him until your bodies tangled more completely beneath the blanket.

You felt him everywhere.

The hard line of his chest against yours. His knee between your legs. His fingers pressing into your thigh like he needed proof that you were real and still there. Your own hands moved over his shoulders, then down his chest, feeling the strength beneath his sweatshirt, the tension that still hadn’t fully left him.

You kissed him until his breathing changed.

Until his lips grew hungrier against yours.

Until the softness became heat.

Logan rolled carefully, taking you with him, shifting until you were half beneath him and half wrapped around him, your back sinking into the mattress while one of his hands braced near your head. He broke the kiss only long enough to look at you, his eyes dark and open in a way that made your chest ache.

“You make it quiet,” he said.

Your fingers paused on his jaw. “What?”

He swallowed, then leaned down until his forehead touched yours.

“In my head,” he murmured. “You make it quiet.”

You didn’t have anything clever to say to that. You didn’t want to. So you kissed him again, slower this time, pouring every answer you had into the press of your mouth against his.

Logan made a low sound and gave in.

His body settled more heavily over yours, not crushing, just present, warm and solid and needy in a way he didn’t bother hiding anymore. His mouth moved from yours to your cheek, then to your jaw, then lower, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck. Your head tipped back before you could stop it, giving him room, and you felt the curve of his smile against your skin.

“There you are,” he murmured, but it wasn’t teasing.

It was reverent.

Your hands slipped beneath his sweatshirt, palms flattening over the warm skin of his back. He shivered at the touch, then kissed your neck again, slower, like he was learning where you were most sensitive and committing it to memory. His hand moved over your waist, your ribs, your hip, not careless, not greedy, but full of want. Like he was touching you because he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to.

You tugged lightly at his sweatshirt.

Logan lifted enough to let you pull it up, but before it could go anywhere, he stopped. His eyes searched yours.

“Is this okay?”

The question came out quiet. Serious.

It melted you.

You nodded, brushing your nose against his. “Yes.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth again. “Tell me if it’s not.”

“I will.”

Only then did he let you pull the sweatshirt over his head.

It landed somewhere near the foot of the bed, forgotten the second his mouth found yours again. Skin met skin beneath your hands, his body warm from the shower and the blankets and the way he kept pressing closer like he couldn’t get enough. The kiss turned messy, full of tongue and breath and fingers gripping tighter than before. He caught your lower lip between his, then soothed it with another kiss, and you felt him smile when your nails dragged lightly down his back.

“Careful,” he murmured.

“You don’t like it?”

His answer was another kiss, deeper than the last.

You laughed softly against his mouth, but the sound faded when his hand slipped under your shirt, his palm spreading over your waist. His touch was slow, giving you every chance to pull away, but you only arched closer, letting your body answer for you. Logan’s breath hitched. His forehead dropped to your shoulder for half a second, like he needed to collect himself.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he said.

You turned your face toward his, lips brushing his ear. “Then show me.”

Logan didn’t need to be told twice. He let out a shaky breath, his lips leaving your ear to find yours again in a kiss that was deeper and hungrier, yet still laced with a desperate tenderness. His tongue swept against yours, tasting of longing and a sharp need to be as close to you as physically possible. Your hands slid up from his shoulders, fingers tangling deep into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down and anchoring him to you.

He groaned into your mouth, a low vibration that you felt in your own chest. His hand, which had been resting on your waist, slid further up under your shirt, his palm hot against your skin. He didn't rush. He traced the curve of your ribs, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your bra, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core.

You shifted beneath him, your legs tangling with his, your thighs brushing against the soft fabric of his gray sweatpants. You could feel the hard length of his cock pressing against your hip. You arched your back, pressing your chest against his bare skin, needing to feel the beat of his heart against yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, his voice thick and strained. He pulled back just an inch, his eyes searching yours. Finding no hesitation, he leaned down to kiss the sensitive dip of your collarbone, his breath hot and ragged.

“I’ve got you, Logan,” you murmured, your voice a soft reassurance. You ran your hands down his back, feeling the ripple of muscle as the tension finally started to bleed out of him. “I want you. All of you.”

That was the breaking point. Logan let out a choked sound, his movements becoming more urgent but remaining gentle. He pulled back just enough to lift your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. He lingered for a moment, just staring at you with a look of pure reverence.

His hands moved to the clasp of your bra, clicking it open with focused precision. As the fabric fell away, he leaned down, his mouth finding your nipple and sucking it softly. You gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him closer.

“Please,” he breathed against your skin, his voice a needy plea.

You reached down, your fingers hooking into the waistband of his gray sweatpants. You slid them down his legs, kicking them away until he was completely bare, his cock springing free, hard and pulsing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you, the friction of skin on skin making you both shiver.

Logan braced himself on his elbow, looking down at you, his expression open and vulnerable. He guided himself to your entrance, pausing for a heartbeat, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Is this okay?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you breathed, tilting your pelvis up to meet him. “Please, Logan.”

He pushed inside slowly, a long, steady slide that filled you completely. Logan closed his eyes, his forehead dropping against yours, a long, shuddering exhale escaping him. He stayed still for a moment, just breathing with you and letting the feeling of the union sink in.

He began to move, slow and rhythmic. He kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours, while his hands cupped your face, holding you gently. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down so there was no space left between you.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice breathless as you pulled him closer. “Right there. Don't stop.”

Logan let out a low, needy moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He picked up the pace, his movements becoming more fluid and more desperate as the tension built. You met every thrust, your nails digging lightly into his back, urging him on. The heat between you climbed, a slow burn that finally ignited into a blinding flash of pleasure.

Logan stiffened, his muscles locking as he came inside you, a deep, guttural groan echoing in the quiet room. You followed him seconds later, your body pulsing around him in waves of release that left you both breathless and shaking.

As the world slowly came back into focus, Logan didn’t pull away. He collapsed softly on top of you, careful not to crush you, his heart hammering against your ribs. He stayed there for a long time, his face hidden in your neck, his breathing slowly evening out.

Eventually, he shifted, rolling to the side but keeping you tucked firmly against his chest. You both slid under the blankets, the cool air of the room contrasting with the radiating warmth of your bodies. You stayed tangled together, limbs entwined, the silence of the room now peaceful.

Logan let out a quiet breath, the kind that sounded like he had finally stopped holding himself together. His arm stayed wrapped around you beneath the blankets, his thumb moving slowly against your side while his lips brushed your temple once, then lingered there.

“I love you,” he murmured.

It came out so softly you almost thought you had imagined it. Not planned. Not dressed up with confidence or charm. Just honest, slipping out of him in the quiet because there was nowhere else for it to go.

You lifted your head from his chest, and Logan looked down at you like he was waiting for the words to scare you away.

They didn’t.

Your hand came up to his jaw, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I love you too, Logan.”

His eyes softened all at once. The last bit of tension left his face, and he pulled you in closer, tucking you back against him like he could finally rest now that you knew.

Garrett was standing too close to you, whispering something in your ear that made you glance around with careful eyes before leaning into him again.

What were you talking about, anyway? You and Garrett were from two different worlds. Was he your type? But no, Garrett and Hannah were—

“Careful, any more and you’ll cut glass.”

Logan’s eyes flicked away from you and towards the sound. Jules.

He raised the beer bottle to his lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jules raised their brows in amusement, “Really? We’re playing this game?”

Logan looked away from his sibling and back to where you were, except now, Garrett’s hand wrapped around your wrist and he led you up the stairs, disappearing out of sight.

Logan’s jaw ticked again.

Hannah stepped out of the kitchen, holding a can of berry soda in one hand, and a red solo cup—probably containing a concoction of Tucker’s design—in the other.

She blinked around, “Hey, have you seen Garrett?”

Logan placed his beer down on the closest table with a soft clink, his eyes not once wavering away from the staircase.

“I’ll go find him for you,” is all he said before pushing off the wall and making his way upstairs.

Logan’s legs carried him every step of the way, his mind too hazy from the alcohol and scattered with jumbling thoughts to trust his own judgment.

Garrett was with Hannah now. Supposedly. He wouldn’t do that with you…right? But his best friend’s words echoed in his head with mocking cruelty:

“We’re not exclusive or anything.”

Logan wouldn’t put it past Garrett to fuck around with another girl. But this is you. You wouldn’t do that.

Right?

He was too distracted to notice he reached Garrett’s bedroom until his body stopped him. He could back out. Right now. Leave whatever this was between you and Garrett up to his imagination, give you both the benefit of the doubt.

But his hand reacted faster than his brain, his grip on the door handle already turning it open before he could decide if forgiveness was a quality he deemed himself noble enough to procure.

But the sight that awaited him made him wish he was saintly enough for absolution.

You were pinned against Garrett’s dresser, in your bra and jeans, Garrett’s hand was on the dresser behind you, right by your head. You both turned your heads so quickly towards the door you might’ve gotten whiplash.

Garrett backed off immediately, clearing his throat and looking at the floor. You glanced between the two men before yanking Garrett’s dresser drawer open and pulling a shirt out to wear.

Logan seemed to snap out of his daze, moving aside from the door. His jaw clenched, “Garrett, Hannah’s looking for you downstairs.”

The hockey captain nodded, looking at you one more time, searching for something in your eyes. You shared a loaded look and only then did he leave, exchanging a hesitant glance at Logan as he walked by.

Then it was just you and Logan.

He didn’t want to look at you, didn’t want to see Garrett’s shirt on your body. The article of clothing was insulting to him.

“Logan,” you called.

His eyes finally flicked up to yours. He stepped inside and closed Garrett’s door behind him.

“Does Hannah know?” Logan asked quietly.

Your face dropped a little. “No, it’s—it’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

You bit your lip.

Hannah had left Garrett’s side to get drinks. He was left alone by the bottom of the staircase. You made your move then.

You came up to him, “Hey, Graham.”

He played uninterested, “‘Sup.”

“No need to act like that, Jules isn’t around to write a gossip piece.” You responded, sipping on your drink.

Garrett turned to you in silent panic. He looked around before moving closer so nobody would hear the conversation.

“What does that mean?”

You looked up at him, “I don’t know what you’re doing exactly, Graham. But you’ve got my best friend involved and I don’t like it.”

Garrett tilted his head to the side, “Wellsy’s a big girl. She can handle herself.”

“I know she can. But I can handle you myself.”

Garrett narrowed his eyes slightly, “I’m not doing anything wrong with her.”

“I don’t know that yet. You and Hannah started dating out of nowhere. And she won’t tell me anything. That’s not like her—that’s not my best friend.” You told him.

“So what do you think this is, huh?” He asked.

“I think you’re using her to get on Jules’ account,” you answered.

Garrett let out a laugh, “Right. Like I need the publicity.”

And you hated how he wasn’t wrong. He was Garrett Graham, everybody on campus knew who he was. He didn’t need Jules to broadcast him to gain popularity.

You glanced around before leaning in to whisper, “Then tell me what’s going on.”

Garrett looked at you and he knew you wouldn’t let this go. He sighed, grabbing your hand and dragging you away from the crowd.

When you reached his bedroom, Garrett closed the door and turned so abruptly that he spilled your drink over your shirt.

You groaned, taking your top off before it could stick to your skin, “What the fuck, Graham?!”

He sighed and looked at the material of your shirt slowly soaking up the liquid, turning see through. He cleared his throat and went to his dresser to get you something new to wear.

You came between him and his dresser, “Just tell me. Don’t bullshit with me.” You demanded.

Garrett sighed, still holding onto his dresser behind you. “If you really want to know, why don’t you ask Wellsy?”

“She keeps telling me you guys ‘hit it off’ during tutoring.” You shrugged.

Garrett raised a brow, “And you don’t believe that?”

“I’ll believe that once I stop spotting you looking out for Jules every time you and Hannah stand next to each other.” You rolled your eyes at him.

Garrett could tell you really cared about Hannah. He leaned closer, “Look, I promise you? I’m not using her.”

If anything, she’s using me to get Justin, he wanted to say but didn’t.

Before you could shoot back a retort, the door creaked open and the two of you snapped towards the entrance where Logan stood, frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

Garrett stepped back, and when Logan told him Hannah was searching for him, he shared a pleading look with you as if to say ‘don’t tell Logan’.

You gave him a brief nod.

And now, back to where you left off with Logan.

“We’re not like that, I just needed to talk to him,” you explained to Logan.

“Why him?” He stepped closer. “Talk to me.”

You looked up at him. “It’s not about you, I—“

“No, I get it,” he stepped back and you hated how you needed him closer like it was oxygen.

“We can’t all be Garrett Graham, right?” He said with a self-deprecating smile.

You closed the distance, “I don’t want Garrett.”

He looked down at the shirt you were wearing, you followed his gaze. The name Graham—bold in bright capital letters on the fabric seemed to painfully taunt the two of you.

You took the offending shirt off and casted it aside.

Logan’s breath hitched, his adam’s apple bobbing in tandem with the spike in his heartbeat.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the jealousy rearing its ugly head, or the close proximity between the two of you. Whatever it was, it was enough to compel the both of you to launch forward and share a long overdue, and very messy, kiss.

There was no finesse, all tongue and teeth. Neither of you minded. It had been a long semester of friendly exchanges and desperate pining, this was an inevitable outcome both you and Logan craved.

You should’ve felt bad for fucking on Garrett’s bed, but you couldn’t bother enough to care. Nor did Logan, it seemed. He had your legs hooked over his shoulders as he pounded into you in a fervor.

“Do you love me more than him? Tell me you never loved him,” Logan demanded through gritted teeth.

It was a miracle that you could hear him at all, let alone reply, “Never. Only you, only want you, Logan. Please.”

Your needy voice did things to him. His pace quickened, “Yeah? Only I can fuck you like this, right? Nobody can make you feel this good.”

You shook your head, nails digging into the muscles on his back. “Just you, I swear.”

He buried his face in your neck, “Fuck, you’re amazing. Perfect girl for me, perfect pussy made just for me.”

Goosebumps crawled up your skin at his words, it didn’t help that he left wet kisses on your skin. “Logan, I’m close…”

He bit your earlobe, “Yeah? Cum for me, baby. I wanna hear you say my name when you finish.”

Your cheeks flushed, part of you worried about the people downstairs, the other part of you ready to throw caution to the wind.

His thumb rubbed your clit in circles, helping you get there. Your eyes screwed shut and you screamed his name when the waves of pleasure took over your body.

Just the sight of you losing yourself made him finish. He grunted and held himself up over you, being mindful not to crush you with his body weight.

He brushed away the wet strands of hair that stuck to your forehead, wanting to look at your face. He admired you silently before kissing you deeply, much gentler than before. Your fingers tugged on the little hairs on the nape of his neck.

“Garrett’s gonna kill me,” he murmured.

You laughed softly, “He’ll live.”

He smiled and pecked your lips once more before getting off you, “Come on, let me get you one of my shirts to wear.”

He raised an amused brow, “Chocolate?”

You nodded, sipping your beer. “Chocolate.” You confirmed, then pointed across the room to where Kendall was busy making out with one of the hockey players. “She’s vanilla. We’re chocolate and vanilla swirl.”

The football player nodded in understanding. “Ah. I see,” he said before looking over at Kendall. “Though vanilla isn’t very vanilla.”

You laughed at his witty joke, both of you watching Kendall as she did a body shot off of the hockey player she was kissing two seconds ago. She was dressed in the same tube top and bubble skirt set you were wearing, complete with the knee-high boots and matching headpiece; hers a whipped white color, yours a cocoa brown.

From the other side of the room, Tucker and Logan were talking when the former spotted you chatting with the tall football player.

Tucker nudged Logan, “Yo, is that your girl?”

Logan followed his line of sight and it landed on you, leaning against the kitchen counter and speaking to the good-looking stranger with an easy smile on your lips.

Logan looked away and gulped down his beverage. “She’s a big girl.”

Logan wasn’t one of those insecure, pompous boyfriends. He didn’t do jealousy. He’s convinced jealousy was invented by a short dick man with an easily bruised ego. Logan was secure enough in his relationship with you to never have any reason to feel jealous.

You turned to the jock and gave his costume a once-over. Knitting your brows together, you racked your brain’s storage full of pop culture references and iconic fictional characters.

“Timothée Chalamet in Call Me by Your Name?” You tried.

He let out a huff of laughter, “Close. I’m Luca from the Disney-Pixar movie.”

“Ahh,” you nodded. “Practically the same.”

He flashed a charming smile, dragging a sip from his bottle. He extended his hand to you, “James.”

You shook his hand and told him your name.

“Pretty name,” he responded. “Though…” he leaned in closer, “…cupcake fits better, don’t you think?”

Ah. At that, you picked up that he was attempting to flirt with you. Forever loyal to your boyfriend, you opened your mouth to turn his advances down. But before you could, you felt an arm wrap around your waist from behind and find purchase on your hipbone. You knew who it was without even looking.

“Hey, got you a refill,” Logan said, taking the half empty can from your hands and replacing it with a new one.

“Thanks,” you said. As your hand moved to pop the can open, Logan’s deft fingers beat you to it and he cracked the tab for you.

The football player, James, eyed the two of you, biting his lip whilst reconfiguring his whole plan. “You’re both…?”

“Air signs,” Logan teasingly remarked with a straight face, casually drinking from his red solo cup. You elbowed him with a small smirk.

“No,” James shook his head. “I mean—”

“Together,” Logan told him, putting his now empty plastic cup down on the counter. His newly freed hand joined the other by holding onto your other hip and giving it a squeeze.

James nodded to himself. “Got it.” And away he went. Probably off to find his Alberto.

Logan’s eyes followed his retreating figure, not easing up until he was out of sight. Only then did he drop his hands off your body.

You turned around and looked up at your boyfriend with a wide smile. “What was that?”

“What was what?” He returned, pouring himself a new drink.

“That whole thing,” you responded.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” You repeated.

Logan shrugged. “A normal interaction, no?”

“He was flirting with me before that.”

“Oh so you’re aware.”

Your expression dropped. Oh, is that why—

“Logan.”

“Hm.”

“Logan.”

“Hm?”

You tilted his face down to look at him. “I wasn’t going to entertain it.”

“I know,” he replied.

“I was going to shut it down right before you showed up.”

“I know.”

“I want to make sure you know that.”

“And I know that.”

You squinted your eyes. This was suspiciously too easy. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

You stared at one another for a beat longer than necessary.

“You’re still upset,” you observed.

“I’m not upset,” he answered.

“So what are you feeling?” You asked.

“I don’t like how he called you cupcake,” Logan told you.

“Me neither. Not when I’m so clearly chocolate.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

“Y/n.”

You sighed softly, “Okay, sorry. I thought humor would make it better.”

Your fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, hoping to relieve some of his tension. It worked. A little.

“It was a shitty pickup line,” you said. “Wouldn’t work on me even if I was single.”

“I hope so.”

“Oh, please, Logan. Take me out the back and shoot me if you ever see me falling for that,” you commented. He let out a small laugh. That’s progress

His hands returned to your hips and he pulled you closer. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. His large hands rested just above your ass.

“What if I called you that?” Logan said lowly.

“Wanna give it a try?” You offered.

He leaned in, his lips hovering right by your ear. You could feel his warm breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. “Would you be into that, cupcake?” He whispered, ending it with a gentle nibble on your earlobe.

You shivered, feeling goosebumps crawl over your skin. “Fuck, I guess you have to take me out back with a gun, Logan.”

He pulled back with a hearty chuckle. You gave a matching smile and he held your face, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone.

As he looked at you, his face turned thoughtful for a moment. You squeezed his hand reassuringly.

He leaned in again. “I didn’t like how he looked at you.”

“How’d he look at me?” You wondered.

“Like how I look at you.”

You stared up at him, biting your lip. “And how do you look at me?” You whispered.

He brought his forehead against yours, gazing deep into your eyes. “Like I want you.”

Oh screw your sexy boyfriend and his even sexier responses. And that’s exactly what you wanted to do now—if only you weren’t in the middle of Beau and Dean’s birthday bash.

You had enough of this game. You raised yourself up and pressed your lips to his. Logan was hungry; he seemed to devour your kiss, swallowing every soft sound you made. His hand strayed down to grip your ass, the other held your waist comfortably. His tongue was already begging to enter your mouth, and you obliged without hesitation.

When you pulled away several moments later, Logan chased your lips with eagerness, gently biting your bottom lip as you separated.

“Mine,” he breathed out under his breath.

You bared a dazed smile, “I only want you.” You mouthed silently.

Logan let out a soft sound of amusement, nodding more to himself than to you. Satisfied and high off your impromptu makeout session, he pressed one last kiss to your forehead before rejoining his friends, this time with a protective hand on the small of your back.

you are sat in the center of john's bed, laptop settled in front of you as you look over the quizlet that you had created to help study for your upcoming bio exam. one of john's sweaters clung to your body, and wrapped you up in the smell of him. if you weren't so stressed by the upcoming exam, you could almost find a comfort in the smell of him. in the way that it envelopes you like a warm hug, almost making the way that you missed him bearable.

as if on cue, the front door of the house opens and the sound of the boys talking fills the halls. the sound is followed by the cascade of their footsteps as they walk up the stairs. garrett seems to catch you out of the corner of his eye, and he pauses in front of garrett's door and turns to ask, "what are you doing here?"

you look around the room for a moment before looking back at your brother under furrowed brows, "well, currently, i'm studying for my bio exam?" you say, the words coming out more like a question, "but, if you mean more generally... i just stayed last night, but i didn't drive so i had to wait for john to take me home."

"oh, gross," garrett says almost by instinct, and then it's almost as if he registers that you are just wearing john's sweater, "you could put some clothes on," he states then.

"i am literally wearing clothes, garrett," you say back, sass lining your tone as you speak. "this also isn't your room, so you can't really dictate what i do."

he rolls his eyes then, and moves away from the doorframe before saying, "whatever, i'm ordering chinese so i'll get your favorite," the words coming out almost absentmindedly. it was as if this was normal. as if seeing you in his best friends room wearing said best friends sweater was just the day to day. when it wasn't, but you figure at least he seemed to be coping better now.

"we're ordering chinese?," john cuts in then, head tilting as he looks at garrett who seemed to be heading off to his bedroom then. garrett offers a quick affirmation as he disappeared behind his door. with furrowed brows, john turns to look at you then before stepping into his room and closing behind him, and when he looks at you, you just offer a shrug before looking back down at your laptop.

his hockey bag thuds against the floor then, and within a moment he is falling onto the bed in front of your laptop. you look up over your screen for a moment, a soft smile crossing your lips as you catch his eye. it's easy to get lost in this moment, but your computer beckons your attention again as you had to study for this exam.

even still, your hand finds it's way into his hair, and your absentmindedly play with his girls. john's eyes flicker shut in that moment, a content sort of bliss overtaking him. there is an exhaustion that had overtaken his body, something that he wasn't unfamiliar with. the off season always involved so much conditioning that it left his body feeling worse for wear.

so to lay there, your hands in his hair and the sound of your keyboard clicking, brought a sense of calm and relief after the long day. something that john feels he could easily fall asleep to.

it isn't long before sleep seems to steal him away from you. the sound of his breathing growing heavier, and it distracts you from the studying that you were doing previously. your eyes fall to him, and there is an overwhelming sense of calm and adoration overtaking you.

slowly, you close the laptop in front of you and move to set it on the side table closest to you. as you move to lay next to him, you try not to disturb him. yet, the attempts seem futile as he stirs lightly next to you. enough of him is awake that he is able to register your body next to his, arm slinging over your torso as he pulls you close against him.

you don't feel tired, and definitely don't want to nap, but the idea of being anywhere else but next to him seemed like torture in and of itself.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿

it had been days since you had actually spent the night at your dorm. it wasn't intentional, but rather the two of you making up for the time lost when your relationship was pushed into the shadows. when the time spent together was limited, and now that everyone knew there was no one stopping you from spending all your time together.

except garrett who, after the third day, loudly said, "do you never go home?" as if all the progress made from him buying your chinese the night before and gaming with john as if you weren't even there was suddenly erased.

"my roommate is going through a breakup," it's half a lie, because she really was going through a breakup, "and she has become kinda difficult to live with." garrett had looked at you, eyes forming slits as if he was trying to decide if you were lying or not.

"whatever," he says then, shrugging lightly before opening the fridge, "are you guys coming to the party tonight?" he asks then, grabbing a water out of the fridge before closing it. he turns to look at you before adding, "that's a stupid question, of course you guys are coming," he opens the water then, "because if i have to go then so does logan."

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿

logan's hand is holding on to yours firmly as he leads you through the house party, happily showing everyone that you were his. after grabbing you both drinks from the kitchen, he takes you to a living room that seemed to be occupied primarily by his own group of friends. beau and dean are telling some grandiose story that has everyone enthralled, and the atmosphere feels so light it almost frees you from the stress of your classes.

john finds a chair next to the coach that garrett is on, and pulls you over towards it. he sits down before pulling you into his lap. for a moment your body stills, an automatic response from the months of pretending this wasn't real. however, when his hand finds its way to your waist, it acts as a grounding force that brings you back to reality and reminds you that this is good.

the night goes on, sweeping you up in long winded stories and heavy laughter. it's been about an hour, and you find yourself in a heated debate with beau and dean about twilight. "deany is right," you firmly then, "team edward is clearly the right choice."

beau scoffs then, "you both are delusional," he states before taking another drink from his red solo cup. "the werewolves are 10 times better than the vamps, and jacob was the right choice."

"except," you cut in abruptly, leaning forward as you speak causing john to readjust his grip around your waist, "jacob is a creep that imprints on a literally newborn baby."

behind you, john's eyebrows furrow together for a moment before he says, "ok, i'll bite, what is imprinting?"

his question causes both you and beau to snap your heads towards him. it's hard to tell who is more offended by the question, but you are quick to cut in before anyone can find out, "you've never watched twilight?," you ask. the question causes john to swap confused looks with both tuck and garrett, the latter offering him a shrug.

"no?," he says then, head tilting a bit as he looks at you, "what makes you think that i would have watched twilight?"

"hey," dean says clearly then, "i don't like the implication behind that statement, given that i have read and watched twilight." the eyes of his friends snap to him in quizzical and judgmental looks, "don't fucking look at me like that, summer made me."

your eyes roll then, and your head shakes lightly before you let out a simple sigh before taking another drink. "well," you say then, settling back against john once more, "imprinting is this fancy way of explaining soulmates, basically," you state plainly, "a werewolf imprints on someone and suddenly that person is, like, their reason for living and breathing."

john's eyebrows knit together, "and jacob imprinted on a baby?," he asks cautiously, the words coming out slowly.

"yes," you reply matter of factly, "he was in love with her mother, bella, and then imprinted as soon as the baby came out." the explanation seems to make john nearly choke on his beer.

there is a pause then as a mischievous look overtakes his face and he asks, voice kinda low, "wait, do you think i imprinted on you?"

there is an immediate, loud laugh that escapes you then, your body folding over towards him as you do so. through the laughs, you can't help the way that you let out, "oh my god, ew." the response causing him to laugh right along with you.

everything feels so easy then. everything feels good.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿

you wake up the next morning to a text from hannah containing a few pictures that she secretly had taken of the two of you. one of them caused you heart to flutter in your chest, as it perfectly seemed to capture a moment of laughter. you in his lap, leaning in close mid laugh as his hand tightens around your waist and a laugh escaping him as well.

it takes two seconds for you to decide to post it to instagram in some impulsive decision to hard launch your relationship. not that there was much to hard launch given that everyone already seemed to know. that was the downside of dating john logan, his life always seemed to be the fastest gossip to spread.

the photo alights with notifications, and very quickly overwhelms you causing you to put your phone back on the side table. your body shifts then, and you press a light kiss to the side of john's jaw. the feeling causes him to stir, but not enough to wake him and so you press another kiss. then another, and another until he is finally awake and pulling you in close, colliding his lips with your own. the kiss and sloppy and lazy, and you can easily tell that he wasn't fully awake quite yet.

"good morning, baby," he lets out low and gravely, forehead pressing against yours with his eyes still closed. it was easy to see that he wasn't quite ready to wake up yet. though, that was likely due to the fact that he had quite a bit to drink the night before and was possibly handling a light hangover.

you kiss the corner of his mouth then before moving down to kiss his jaw, and then peppering kisses down his neck. the act of it causes a soft groan to raise up through his throat and out of his mouth. in between the kisses you gently say, "good morning."

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿

on his way to practice, john had dropped you off at your dorm, and you decided to have a slow, easy afternoon. it started with a shower, then went on to a simple spa day. one where you focused on your skin care and doing your hair and nails. it was easy and quiet.

as you settled down to watch a moving in the common area that you shared with your roommate, your phone buzzed next to you. immediately there was a warmth in your chest as you were positive that it had to be john. he always texted you whenever he got the chance, just to check in and update you about practice or whatever else.

you set the popcorn bowl down on the small coffee table in front of you and reach for your phone that was settled down on the couch next to you. the moment that the name on your phone registers in your head, your heart sinks and a panic sets in.

phil: i'm coming to town tomorrow. we're having lunch, meet me at della's diner at 2pm.

then there is nothing for a few seconds before another message pushes through.

phil: this is non-negotiable.

the truth was, you didn't know what to expect from lunch with garrett. part of you expected him to be angry, and start yelling at you for daring to be with his best friend. there would be some sort of long tangent about crossing a line, and you would have explain that it just happened. that you didn't mean for it to, but it did and there was no going back now that you loved him.

however, none of that happened. garrett just ordered his mountain of food, and sat quietly across the booth from you. which, honestly, was worse. you would take him yelling at you and scolding you over this painful, stifling silence.

it was the kind of silence that consumed you, and made your skin feel itchy. it felt like you were under a microscope, and every layer of you was being exposed in that moment. like your heart was being dissected by your brother, and it caused this deep discomfort to wedge itself between your ribs, restricting your ability to breathe.

finally, you can't take it anymore and your hands fall onto the table as you say, "okay, i can't do this anymore."

his eyes shift up to you, mid bite as he replies, "i'm not talking about this right now."

this illicit's a glare from you, something that bores into him with a fiery intensity. "i don't care," you state then, the words coming out annoyed and harsh, "we are talking about it, because i can't handle this silence for a second longer."

a sigh falls from his lips then as he straightens up, and levels you with an annoyed look on his face, "fine." when the word reaches you, you can't help the way that your body stills. this is the conversation that you wanted, but now that it was happening you suddenly wished that it wasn't. that you could crawl under the table and disappear.

even still, you push down all those feelings and try to focus on what little courage you had left in your body, "i'm not breaking up with him," you establish rather quickly. "we didn't mean for it to hurt you, and we were going to tell you," you go on to explain, "but we wanted to make sure this was serious before we dealt with all of this, okay?"

his eyes stay focused on you then as a silence falls between you for a beat. garrett clears his throat then, arms reaching up and crossing in front of him, "okay." then he pauses again, and your eyebrows furrow in response. that's it? a simple okay?

then, as if he read your mind, he adds "i'm not upset about you two being together." there is a pause before he clarifies, "okay, i am a little annoyed about that, but that's not all of it." at least he was being honest. though, he was always honest with you. "i'm upset that you lied to me," he goes on to explain, the crease in his brow deepening, "you promised that you would never lie to me."

right, that.

"i know, garrett, and i didn't mean to lie to you," you explain, a sigh escaping your lips as you do, "but i didn't think you would allow it and i..." your voice trails off, because it seems selfish. as you go over the words in your head, it is selfish. though, this whole thing had been selfish. you had spent the whole time thinking about what you wanted without any consideration to what garrett might feel.

"you?," he says, eyebrow raising as he looks at you.

"i just liked him so much, and i never thought he could like me back, so when he told me that he did...," it sounds even more selfish as you say it out loud. "when he did, i didn't know how to say no."

there is something that softens on his face then, as if he gets it in some way. "you didn't have to lie to me," he says then, arms uncrossing from in front of him as his hand reaches down for a fry. "i'm not blind. i knew that you both liked each other, and if you were going to hook up with any of my friends, i'd rather it be him." which was definitely one way of putting it.

your voice goes softer then as you say, "but you seemed so angry after the game..."

another sigh escapes him as he says, "because i realized that i was being played," then he rolls his eyes before adding, "and i guess there was some initial annoyance at the fact that he was with you, but i'm not mad about it."

there is a hope that blossoms in your chest then, and it is mirrored by the smile on your face, "so it's okay?"

there is another roll of his eyes, "i guess." which is as much of a yes as you figure that you would ever get. especially given that he is quick to change the topic, and his tone shifts to something unsure as he states, "you looked scared of me..."

it takes you a moment to put the pieces together and you remember the way your face scrunched together when he got angry with you outside the stadium. you remember the look of recognition and emotion on his face when he saw it. "oh," you say then, "i wasn't scared of you, gar... i was caught off guard, but i was also panicked thinking about you being mad at me." then you pause and a serious expression takes over your face, "i never want you to be mad at me."

relief overtakes him then, and he lets out a sigh before saying, "i was mad at you." which isn't all that reassuring, but at least it was the truth, "but i'm not anymore. i just want you to be happy, okay?"

a smile takes over your face before you reach out to rest a hand over his, and you softly say "i am happy."

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿

the two of you walk through the door of the hockey house, laughing over some stupid story that garrett was telling you. it was strange how much could happen after three days of no contact. how he could have so much to tell you, but it makes sense. you update each other daily when anything interesting or funny happens.

you had told him in the car that it was movie night with john, so he doesn't question it when the you split away from him in the living room and let him walk to the kitchen on his own. "hi," you say softly as you move around the couch and settle into the spot next to john. he leans forward to kiss you then, gentle and chaste. when you pull apart you smile and say, "i think everything is good now."

which is something that is only solidified when garrett walks back out to the kitchen holding two beers and a coke. he hands the beer to john then, before asking, "so what are we watching?" and moving to settle into a chair.

you watch the way that john's facial expression changes. how there is a relief that watches over him, and all the tension he was holding had just left his body. you know he won't say it, but he had been waiting for this. he had been so worried about losing his best friend, that it was eating away at him even if he wouldn't say it to you. even if he was too busy being focused on you and being too manly to ever say it out loud, but he missed his best friend. he missed garrett.

"i wanted to watch top gun, but she has conned me into the notebook," john explains with a sigh.

garrett visibly scowls before saying, "fuck that, i vote top gun." which is followed by both dean and tucker yelling in agreement. "four against one, i guess we are watching top gun tonight."

you look at him with a scowl before stating, "excuse me?," then you look to john and he just smiles with a shrug before taking a drink from his beer. "this is so not far, you guys can't just crash our movie night and make me watch top gun!"

dean laughs as he walks into the room, tucker splitting off into the kitchen to make popcorn. "this is our house, lil grahamsy, we can do whatever we want," he explains with a shrug as he plops down on the other side of john, "not even your boyfriend can stop us, he's outvotted too."

you are so swept up in the fact that dean had called john your boyfriend loudly for everyone to hear, that you completely forget the fact that your movie night was being crashed by the rest of them. honestly, you figured that you may not even mind it all that much.

for it meant that, for the first time, you get to be his girlfriend in the light of day for everyone to see.

"fine, whatever, i concede," you say with a soft laugh before you fling your legs over john's and grab a hold of his hand. this was nice, and it was definitely something you could get used to.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿

you had left the boys right after the first top gun movie had ended, and they began discussing starting the second. it wasn't that you didn't want to watch this movie with them, but your head had started to hurt. it likely had to do with the fact that you had gotten up early that morning for a study group, and the night was getting rather late.

so, you excused yourself and made your way upstairs to john's room. it wasn't lost on you the slight, mocking look of digust that garrett gave the two of you when you had kissed before john had mentioned how he would be up later. though, you chose not to think about it all that much. especially given that you knew the guys would make fun of john the moment you left the room.

by the time that john had made his way to his room, you had already changed into one of his shirts and was laying under the covers on your phone. the door opens slowly, and you look up then and a slow smile creeps onto your face as you see him, "how as the movie?"

"i think it's still going," he explains with ease as he makes his way over to the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he lays down. "i decided i missed you too much, and just had to get up here," he explains then before leaning down and kissing you gently.

when he pulls away, your head tilts to the side slight before you ask, "and garrett didn't say anything about you coming up here? no 'ew gross'?" you shouldn't be wondering, but the curiousity got the best of you. especially given how you were still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that he was okay with it.

there is a laugh that escapes john then, soft and low as it fills your head, a melody that you would never forget. "worse then that," he says with with a scrunch of his nose, "i got the entire 'treat my sister right' talk as soon as you left the room," he goes on to explain, "and he promised to kill me if i didn't. then dean and tucker also said they would kill me."

a hand scrubs over your face, and you can't help the laugh that escapes your lips, "i hate them all so much."

his hand captures the one that you had pulled over your face, and he holds them up between you before interlocking your fingers and letting your arms fall to the side. "well," he starts, "they love you," and then he gets a little bit closer as he adds, "and so do i, i guess."

a look of offense flickers across your face then, and you stifle out a sharp laugh, "you think?". he then smirks at you before pulling you closer to your body and pressing a hot, passionate kiss against your lips. one that makes it almost hard for you to breathe.

In the six months you'd known John Logan, you'd known him to be rational. His anger was taken out on the ice, his head stayed cool, and his fists stayed by his side. That's the type of man John Logan was. He didn't punch first and ask questions later.

So why then, did Tucker call you at ten at night to tell you that Logan had his fists in your ex's face?

You weren't sure. All you knew was that you needed to figure it out. Set it straight. Understand why Logan lost his cool so hard.

He'd never done that before, and something in you was worried.

So, you put shoes on and headed out the door, not even bothering to change out of your pjs as you got in the car and headed to the hockey house. The ride there was deafeningly silent. No music, no mumbling or humming or anything from you. Just the rumble of your car and the worry in your brain.

When you pulled up, you paused for a second, breath hitching. You weren't entirely sure what you were doing here. In reality, what could you do to help? But...you had to be there. You had to be.

If Logan was pissed off over your ex, you felt responsible.

So you got out of the car and headed up to the house in your slides and pjs, not bothering to knock as you opened the door. Tucker and Dean were in the living room, and Dean pointed upstairs wordlessly.

You didn't give him a second glance as you headed upstairs and to Logan's room. No knocking, no waiting, you just barged in, closing the door behind you. Logan was sitting on his bed, leg bouncing and knuckles busted open.

You swallowed. "What happened?" you asked, your voice suddenly quiet.

It was like he hadn't even realized you were there, not until now. His eyes shot up to you, a mix of confusion and anger still lingering, but there was something else too. Something...different. His jaw worked, his lips pressing together.

Then, he shook his head. "Nothing," he replied. Like it wasn't a big deal. Like this entire thing didn't happen.

You scoffed. "Nothing? Logan, look at your knuckles."

Logan looked down, his eyes glancing over his bloody knuckles, and he inhaled shakily, like he was seeing them for the first time. He brought a hand up, running it over his face. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it?" You sounded offended. You were offended. How could he tell you that? You huffed, turning around and leaving his room. You went to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, getting it wet with warm water and then adding some soap.

You walked back into Logan's room, and his eyes shot up again, surprise in them like he didn't expect you to come back. You walked over to me, dropping to your knees down in front of him and grabbing his hand gently.

"You don't have to—"

"Shut up," you mumbled, dabbing the rugged skin lightly. Logan hissed, hand tightening in yours, and you let him. Silence encompassed the room for a few seconds as you cleaned his knuckles, but curiosity got the best of you. "Why'd you do it?"

Your eyes met his. He swallowed. "He pissed me off."

You shook your head. "It's more than that. It has to be. You don't just beat up people because they piss you off, John."

The use of his first name seemed to get him. You only called him that when it was serious, and this was serious. You had to understand what was so special about your ex that he threw fists.

He sighed, throat bobbing as he swallowed once more. "He deserved it," he deflected again.

You weren't having it. "That's not what I asked."

He inhaled through his nose, squeezing your hand slightly tighter as you hit a sensitive spot with the washcloth. "He called you a slut," he grumbled out through gritted teeth.

You paused, eyes flickering up to his. You let out a shaky breath. You knew your ex had been saying shit about you, but it didn't make it affect you any less hearing it come from Logan. He scoffed softly, shaking your head. "So you beat his ass for that?"

"Of course I beat his ass for that, angel. Why the hell wouldn't I?"

Angel.

He only called you that on rare occasions. When he was really drunk or when it was really late and you were sleeping over. So to hear it now, in this moment? It struck your chest and made your stomach erupt with butterflies.

"It wasn't worth it," you mumbled, finishing up his knuckles. "It's just words."

You stood up, tossing the washcloth in his dirty hamper. "It's not just words, and it was worth it. It was worth it to me." He stood up then, hovering over you, his body inches from yours. "No one gets to talk about you like that."

You swallowed, shaking your head. "Why is it such a big deal to you?"

He tilted his head, eyes searching yours like the question was ridiculous to even ask. "Are you kidding me?" You shook your head, eyebrows furrowed. "Angel..." His hands came down to your hips, gripping gently and pulling you closer.

Your breath hitched. "Everything about you is a big deal to me," he whispered, a small smile on his face.

You smiled slightly, confusedly, trying to come to terms with what you knew he was saying. "I don't-" You paused. "I mean...you- you still shouldn't have hit him."

He chuckled, breathlessly and softly, like this was all funny. "Yeah, I should've." He leaned in, kissing you softly. Your breath was taken away, his lips soft and sure against yours. It took you a few seconds, but you caught up.

Your hands went to his hair and he pulled you even closer, the kiss deepening as he did so. The kiss lasted as long as it could before you both had to pull back, and you were smiling so hard it almost hurt. You'd never been kissed like that before.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "You are..." You sighed, leaning in and resting your forehead against his. "Something else, John Logan."

The house was unusually quiet. No music blasted from Logan’s room. No television. No laughter from the living room. Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the sound of rain tapping against the kitchen windows. Logan looked up from the sandwich he was halfway through making when the front door opened. Garrett walked in. One glance was all it took. Something was wrong.

This was different. His shoulders were tense. His eyes looked empty. Logan watched him disappear into the kitchen before following a few seconds later. Garrett stood in front of the sink, staring blankly out the rain-speckled window. He hadn’t moved.

Logan leaned against the counter.

Silence.

Normally he’d fill it. Normally Garrett would. Tonight, neither of them seemed capable.

The clock above the stove ticked loudly.

Finally…

“I gotta tell you something.”

Logan straightened.

Garrett’s voice was flat. Not emotionless. Worse. Like he’d run out of emotions altogether.

“Okay…” Logan said carefully.

Another long silence.

Garrett rubbed both hands over his face and sighed. Seemed like he was preparing to tell something. Logan didn’t interrupt. Didn’t rush him. Just waited.

“My dad…” Garrett swallowed. “…used to beat me.”

The words settled heavily between them. Logan felt something tighten painfully in his chest.

He knew Garrett and his father didn’t get along. He knew Phil Graham was an asshole.

But this…

This wasn’t where he’d expected the sentence to go.

Garrett laughed quietly.

“You know what’s funny?”

Logan shook his head.

“I still can’t say it without feeling like I’m lying.”

He stared down at the kitchen tile.

“I keep expecting someone to tell me I’m exaggerating.”

“They won’t.”

Garrett looked over.

Logan’s expression hadn’t changed.

No pity.

No disbelief.

Just complete attention.

Garrett took a shaky breath.

“He wasn’t always angry.” Another pause “That would’ve been easier.”

Logan frowned slightly.

“He’d be normal.” Garrett’s eyes unfocused as memories surfaced. “We’d eat dinner. He’d ask about school. We’d joke. And then I’d have a bad game.”

Silence.

“Or I’d miss a shot.”

“Or I’d mouth off.”

“Or sometimes…”

He laughed bitterly.

“…sometimes nothing happened.”

Logan’s jaw tightened.

Garrett continued quietly.

“You stop trying to figure out why after a while.”

His fingers gripped the edge of the counter.

“You just spend all day wondering if today’s gonna be one of the bad days.”

Logan’s chest hurt.

He could picture little Garrett.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Coming home after hockey.

Wondering whether opening the front door would end with dinner or bruises.

“I got good at reading him.” Garrett’s voice was almost distant now. “The way he’d close the car door. The way he’d walk into the house. Whether he’d say my name.”

“If he was quiet…” He closed his eyes. “I knew.”

Logan felt sick.

“I started staying at the rink longer.” Garrett shrugged. “Coach thought I was dedicated. Another humorless laugh. “I was just killing time.”

His voice cracked slightly. “Sometimes I’d pray he’d be asleep when I got home.”

The kitchen felt impossibly small.

Logan couldn’t think of a single thing to say that wouldn’t sound meaningless.

So he stayed quiet.

Garrett seemed grateful for that.

“I got bigger eventually.”

He looked down at his own hands.

“Started hockey training year-round. Started lifting. Dad hit me one night and I …” A pause. “I shoved him back.”

Garrett’s expression was unreadable.

“He looked at me like he didn’t know who I was.”

Another silence.

“That was the last time.”

Logan finally spoke. “You were a kid.”

Garrett gave a tiny nod. “I know.”

“No.” Logan stepped closer. “You were a kid.” The words were firmer now. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Garrett’s jaw tightened.

“I still think maybe if I’d just…”

“No.”

Logan cut him off immediately. “No ‘if.’”

Garrett blinked.

“You were a child.”

Another pause.

“Kids don’t deserve to get hit because they had a bad game.”

The words hung between them. Garrett looked away quickly. His eyes burned.

“I’ve never told anybody except Hannah”

Logan’s heart twisted.

“None of the guys?”

Garett shook his head.

Logan moved without really thinking. He wrapped one arm around Garrett’s shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Garrett froze for just a second. Then all the tension he’d been carrying seemed to give way. He leaned forward, forehead pressing against Logan’s shoulder. He didn’t cry. But Logan could feel him shaking.

“It’s over,” Logan said quietly.

Garrett let out a slow breath. “I know.”

“You got out.”

“…Yeah”

“You survived.”

Garrett nodded once. “I guess.”

“No.” Logan pulled back enough to look him in the eye. “I mean it.” His voice was steady “I’m proud of you.”

Garrett actually frowned.“…For what?”

“For surviving something nobody should’ve had to survive.”

Garrett stared at him. Like the thought had genuinely never occurred to him.

The silence stretched again.

Then Logan’s expression slowly shifted.

Something crossed his face.

Confusion.

His brow furrowed.

“…Wait.”

Garrett looked up.

Logan’s stomach suddenly felt heavy.

“Y/N…”

Garrett didn’t move.

Logan’s heartbeat sped up.

“She’s…”

His voice came out quieter now.

“She’s younger than us.”

Garrett looked at the floor.

“Garrett…?”

Nothing.

“Tell me she was too young.”

Silence.

Logan’s pulse pounded in his ears.

“Garrett…. Please…”

Still nothing.

“Did she also…” Logan couldn’t even finish off the sentence. “Did Phil…”

Garrett’s eyes filled with something Logan had never seen before.

Guilt.

The kind that consumed a person from the inside out.

Then Garrett gave the smallest nod.

Once. Barely noticeable.

It was enough.

Logan felt like the floor had disappeared beneath him.

“Oh…”

Logan closed his eyes.

“…Jesus Christ.”

The word left him as little more than air.

His mind raced through every memory he had of Y/N.

Her laugh.

The way she always smiled before anyone else did.

The way she’d apologize for interrupting conversations she hadn’t interrupted.

The way she’d tense whenever someone raised their voice.

Things he’d never questioned.

Things that suddenly fit together in a way that made him feel sick.

—

Logan sat in his car for almost twenty minutes. The engine had gone cold. Rain tapped steadily against the windshield, but he barely noticed.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Garrett standing in that kitchen.

“My dad used to beat me.”

Then… that tiny nod.

The one that had answered everything Logan couldn’t bear to ask.

Y/N.

His girlfriend.

Garrett’s little sister.

How many times had he looked at her and missed it?

How many times had she smiled at him while carrying something no one should ever have to carry?

His phone buzzed.

Y/N: You still coming over? I made pasta :)

Logan stared at the message until the screen dimmed.

Then he started the car.

—

Y/N answered the door wearing one of his sweatshirts.

His sweatshirt.

Her hair was tied into a messy bun, and she smiled the second she saw him.

“There you are.”

She stepped aside.

“I was about to eat without you.”

Logan couldn’t smile back. The expression slipped from y/n’s face almost instantly.

“…Logan?”

He walked inside.

She closed the door.

“Is everything okay?”

He looked at her.

Really looked.

There was a tiny scar near her wrist he’d never asked about.

God.

How had he never…

“Logan?”

She took a small step toward him.

“You look pale.”

He let out a slow breath.

“I talked to Garrett.”

She froze.

“He…”Logan tries to stop his thoughts from rushing. “He told me about your dad.”

Everything inside her stopped.

For a long moment, she simply stared at him.

“…He what?”

“He told me.”

Silence.

“No.”

The word escaped before she could stop it.

“He wouldn’t.”

“He did.”

“No.”

She shook her head faster.

Logan’s stomach twisted.

“You know.” She covered her mouth with one hand. Tears immediately filled her eyes.

“No, no, no…”

She turned away.

Logan stepped forward.

“Y/N…”

Her breathing became uneven.

“How can you look at me right now?” It was more like a cry of pain than a question targeted at Logan. But Logan still answered with the words he found to fit best.

“I won’t look at you differently.”

“You will! You are!”

“No”

“You do!”

She spun around so quickly it startled both of them.

Her voice cracked.

“You know now!”

The apartment fell silent.

Logan stared.

Y/N immediately regretted yelling.

She stepped backward.

“I’m sorry.”

Another step.

“I’m sorry.”

Logan frowned.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I yelled.”

“So?”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“So?”

“I just…”

She wrapped both arms around herself.

“I shouldn’t have.”

Logan’s chest ached.

“You don’t have to apologize for raising your voice.”

“I do.”

“No.”

“I do.”

“No.” His own voice rose without him meaning to. “You don’t.”

She flinched.

Hard.

Like she’d been struck.

The second Logan saw it, all the anger drained from his face.

“…Oh, God.” His voice became barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Y/N couldn’t look at him anymore. Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor.

“I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You yelled.”

“I…” Logan stopped.

Because she wasn’t hearing him. She was hearing someone else. Someone years older. Someone much crueler.

He took one slow step backward. Then another. Giving her space.

“I’m angry,” he said quietly. “But not at you, never at you sweetie.”

Silence.

“I’m angry because someone hurt you.”

“I’m angry because I love you.”

Her breathing hitched.

“And someone made you think this…” He gestured helplessly between them. “…was your fault.”

Tears slid silently down her face. Logan wanted nothing more than to hold her. Instead, he stayed exactly where he was.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

She whispered so quietly he almost missed it. “I’m “I’m trying not to be.”

His heart broke.

—

Several minutes passed before either of them spoke again.

It was Y/N.

“He stopped.”

Logan looked up.

“My dad.”

She wiped her face.

“He stopped.”

“When?”

She hesitated.

“A while ago.”

“How long is ‘a while’?”

“I don’t know.”

“Months?”

“…Yeah.”

“A year?”

She looked away.

Logan noticed.

Immediately.

“…Y/N.”

She stayed quiet.

His pulse quickened.

“When?”

Another silence.

“After Garrett left he continued…”

The words were barely audible.

Logan closed his eyes.

Fuck.

She continued before he could say anything.

“It wasn’t every day.”

His eyes snapped open. She said it so automatically. Like she thought it made things better. “It wasn’t every week either.”

Another automatic explanation.

“It depended.”

Logan stared at her.

She kept going.

“If I stayed out of the house…If skating competitions went well… If I….”

“Stop.” His voice cracked.

She blinked.

“You don’t have to justify it.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You were.”

Silence.

“You just listed reasons.”

She looked confused.

Logan spoke softly. “There aren’t any justifications for what he did.”

“I always thought maybe if I was just…” She searched for the word. “…better.”

“No.”

“…Quieter.”

“No.”

“…More careful.”

“No.”

His voice was firm now.

“There was never a version of you that deserved that.”

The sentence seemed to hit something deep inside her. Because suddenly she looked exhausted.

“I don’t know how to believe that.”

Logan’s eyes watered.

“I know.”

—

Another long silence.

Then Logan asked the question that had been burning inside him since he’d left Garrett.

“I need you to tell me something.”

She nodded weakly.

“Did he really stop?”

She frowned.

“What?”

“Your dad.”

He swallowed.

“I need to know.”

She looked confused.

“I just told you he stopped.”

“I know.”

His breathing became uneven.

“But you’re smaller than Garrett.”

She stared.

“You couldn’t fight back.” He hated how shaky his own voice sounded. “So I need to know…” He rubbed both hands over his face “…I need to know you’re safe.”

Y/N’s expression changed instantly. She heard something completely different.

“So now I need protecting?”

“What?”

“You think I’m helpless.”

“No.”

“You think I’m broken.”

“No.”

“You pity me.”

Logan stared at her.

“Y/N.”

“You think I can’t take care of myself.”

“I think someone failed to take care of you.”

She went quiet.

He stepped closer.

Slowly.

“So now…” His voice softened. “…I just want to know you’re okay.”

She looked at him for a long moment.

Then whispered, “No one’s ever asked me that.”

Logan’s throat tightened.

“What?”

“No one asks if I’m okay.”

Another tear escaped.

“They ask if I’m over it.”

“If I’m fine.”

“If I’ve moved on.”

She laughed bitterly.

“They never ask if I’m okay.”

Logan closed the distance between them.

This time she didn’t step away.

He reached up carefully.

Not touching her.

Just giving her the choice.

She looked at his hand.

Then took it herself.

The moment their fingers intertwined, she started crying again.

Logan immediately pulled her into his arms. Slowly. Giving her every opportunity to pull away. Instead she buried her face agains this chest.

“I was so scared,” she whispered.

“I know.”

“I thought if you found out…” A shaky breath escaped her lips, “…you’d leave.”

Logan rested his cheek against the top of her head.

“I am scared of your past.”

His arms tightened around her just a little.

“I am scared of how alone you carried it.”

She cried harder. Not because his words fixed anything. They didn’t. Years of fear don’t disappear in one night. But for the first time since she was a little girl… Someone knew. The whole truth. And instead of turning away, Logan held her even closer.

After a long while, he kissed the top of her head.

“So here’s what’s going to happen.”

She sniffled against his chest.

“What?”

“You don’t carry this by yourself anymore.”

A tiny, watery laugh escaped her.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I absolutely do.” She tilted her head up just enough to look at him.

A hint of a smile tugged at his lips.

“I’m dating a Graham.” He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “You people are unbelievably stubborn.”

Despite everything, she let out a quiet laugh.

“There she is,” Logan murmured, relieved to hear it.

She looked at him uncertainly. “You still want me?”

He blinked.

Then, with all the sincerity he could muster, answered, “Y/N, I wanted you before I knew. I want you now that I know. The only thing that’s changed is this: now I know there were nights you needed someone, and I wasn’t there.”

His voice cracked.

“I can’t change those nights.”

He rested his forehead against hers.

“But if you’ll let me…”

His thumb gently brushed away another tear.

“…I can be here for the next ones.”

For the first time that evening, Y/N didn’t apologize.

She simply nodded.

And let herself be held.

It took you a wild minute, but hey, game recognises game. He was always looking for someone too. Just... not you. You followed his line of sight; you were curious as to who made his face light up that way. Curiosity killed the cat, desecrated it, buried it, and got rid of the evidence.

It was deeply inconvenient that the one guy you ended up genuinely liking in all your time at Briar just so happened to be in love with your best friend. As was your luck.

Logan, on the other hand, really looked forward to seeing Hannah.

The night after he walked you home, he'd had a revelation. He didn't want Hannah. He just wanted to be in love. And he wanted it to be with you, specifically. So, he had begged Hannah, who knew you better than anyone in the world, to tell him everything about you.

"And why exactly would I do that?" she asked, as she cleared his table at Malone's.

"Well, I may or may not be interested in asking her out," he confirmed. Hannah froze for a second before taking a seat opposite him in the booth.

"Listen to me, Logan. Before you have my blessing—"

"I wasn't asking for—"

"Before," she cut him off, "you have my blessing, know this. You will not hurt her. You will not make her cry; you will not ever be the reason she feels betrayed, and you certainly cannot treat her like she's just anybody. She's the prize. Understood?"

Logan was genuinely scared. "Yes, ma'am."

"What do you want to know?"

And so, he spent the following days brainstorming ways to ask you out and running them by Hannah to see if you'd say okay. They had settled on simple, subtle ways. "Drop hints. Let her know you like her," Hannah had said. So he did.

He was magically at the library at the same time you were, offered to carry your books, tried making small talk, and whatnot. You had nipped that right in the bud.

"Listen, I'm sorry, but I got this, like, really daunting assignment to work on, so if you don't mind..."

"What? Yeah, no— of course, yeah. Go. Study. Education is... yeah."

So that failed spectacularly.

Next, it was getting you your coffee order. As a surprise. Yay! Here's your exact coffee order! See how much I notice? Love me.

Unfortunately, the only person that attempt surprised was Logan.

He had stopped you on your way to class with a rushed Hey! Wait up! It sounded very breathless, like he had sprinted through campus to get there. Which he had.

"What's this?"

"I got you coffee." He paused to catch his breath. "From that place you like."

"Oh," you trailed off, and you looked at him with what he convinced himself could not be pity.

"What's wrong? Did I get it wrong? Wh—"

"No, nothing, I just— I had coffee like five minutes ago. I didn't have time to go there before class, so I just got it from the cafeteria," you explained. Logan just stared in disbelief.

"Oh."

Well, shit.

"Yeah," you laughed nervously. "It's fine, I'll just... have some more, I guess," you tried.

"What—no, no, you don't have to," he laughed, "I'll have it instead. It's fine. I love..." he trailed off, pausing to read the order written on the cup, trying and failing at hiding the mild grimace that formed, "... vanilla."

You just nodded solemnly and watched him as he took a sip. It was clearly not to his taste; he was struggling, and he gave you a very unconvincing thumbs-up as he swallowed what he believed could not possibly contain any amount of coffee at all.

"You okay, Logan?"

"Uh-huh!" he assured, but his voice was way too high-pitched to sound plausible.

The third time had to be the charm. Logan was very close to just going up to you and saying Listen. I really like you. You're killing me here. Dinner? Hannah had to convince him for twenty minutes to try being normal one last time before giving up.

It was a relatively simple plan. There was going to be a party. You were going to be there. All he had to do was talk to you and treat you like a human being. Genius plan, right? Wrong.

It was like the entire universe was conspiring against Logan. Every time he would try to strike up a conversation with you, it would die down in a matter of seconds because someone wanted either one of you for something. And when you both were finally free, and it felt like the conversation was getting somewhere, a puck bunny that Logan had met at a party ages ago would get the brilliant idea of getting reacquainted with him. After about three instances of this happening, Logan excused himself from you and pulled her aside.

"Kylie," he laughed, but there was no humour in it. "Listen. You're an amazing person—"

"You think so?" she asked, hand to heart and teary-eyed, clearly drunk out of her mind, poor thing.

"Uh-huh!" he indulged, already losing patience, "And any guy would be so lucky to have you."

"Yeah, he would," she laughed, pulling him closer by the collar. He caught her by the wrist, pulled her away and stepped back.

"Yeah, see? That's the thing. I am not that guy."

"What do you mean?" she asked, tears already welling in her eyes. He sighed, head dropping.

"I like someone, Kylie. I really like this girl, and I don't wanna screw it up, okay?"

Gears were finally turning in her head. She gasped, her eyes lighting up. "Is that who you were talking to?"

"Yes," he laughed. "That was her, yeah."

"She's pretty."

"Yeah, she is. And she's really smart too. She does this thing when—"

Logan spent the next 15 minutes talking about you. By the time he was done (he wasn't nearly done; he just noticed that it had been quiet for a while), Kylie had dozed off, leaning on the wall. Not wanting to leave her there, he ushered her into the nearest room and left her on the bed. By the time he came back to the party, you were gone. You probably thought he ditched you for Kylie.

Well, shit.

It wasn't that you didn't notice that Logan was trying something with you. It's just— It felt wrong at this point. What, Hannah was in a relationship now, so he was going for you instead? Is that what this was? And Kylie now? Were you that boring that he had to ditch you mid-conversation?

Sure, you loved that he was making an effort, and it was killing you on the inside to not reciprocate, but if his heart was not in the right place, then what even was the point? You deserved to be wanted because you were you. Not as someone's rebound, not as an afterthought. And you were going to wait until his intentions towards you were crystal clear.

Logan was getting nowhere with you, and it wasn't for lack of trying. He spent the following week trying to arrange as many "chance encounters" as possible to try and talk to you. But, no matter what he did, and no matter how obvious he made it, you seemed to show zero interest in him. It was pissing him off. Hell, it was pissing Garrett off, who had to listen to him complain about this every day, all day long.

"I'm telling you, G, it's like she hates me."

"She's not the only one," he deadpans.

"Dude, I'm serious," he said, his voice sincere.

Garrett almost felt bad for him, except he didn't, thanks to the fact that Logan had barged into his room unannounced; Hannah and Garrett were very, very naked and hiding under the covers.

"So am I. Get the fuck out of my room, Logan," Garrett threatened, throwing a pillow at Logan's figure, which rapidly sprinted out of his room.

"Jesus. Anyways, where were we, Wellsy?" Garrett smirked, hand already snaking up Hannah's waist.

"She does like him back, you know?"Hannah announced.

"Oh, come on!"

So, yeah. Logan's love life was in shambles; Garrett was getting cockblocked, and you were moping around thinking the guy you were basically in love with liked your best friend instead. A normal situation that everybody faces. Sure.

Logan was going to try one last time, and he wasn't going to take Hannah's advice. No more hints or subtlety, because he clearly sucked at those. No, he was going in the grand romantic-gesture direction because that always works out perfectly. They had a game coming up, and he knew exactly what to do.

It was game day, finally. The score was tied, third period, and Briar's crowd was already hoarse from screaming. You were wedged between Hannah and a very enthusiastic stranger in a Briar jersey, clutching your coffee you'd stopped drinking twenty minutes ago because your hands wouldn't stay still long enough.

"He's going to give himself whiplash trying to find you in this crowd," Hannah said, not looking up from her phone, where she was very obviously texting Allie updates about you and Logan.

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're doing the thing where you pretend you're not looking for him while you are actively looking for him."

You did not dignify that with a response, mostly because it was true.

And then you saw him. Logan, skating backward near the boards, scanning the stands like a man on a mission. His eyes caught yours, and something in his whole body seemed to relax and panic at the same time, which should not have been possible, and yet.

He pointed. At you. In front of literally everyone. Oh god.

"Oh no," you said.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Hannah said, already filming.

"THIS ONE'S FOR YOU!" he bellowed, loud enough that three separate sections turned to look at you, and you wanted the bleachers to open up and swallow you whole.

Then he took the puck, because of course the puck was already coming to him, because the universe apparently wanted to humiliate him on the biggest possible stage— and he shot.

Into his own net.

The horn blared. For the other team.

There was a full second of stunned silence before the away side erupted, and Coach Jensen looked like he was one heart attack away from an ambulance. Tucker looked like he had seen a ghost. Dean had both hands over his face, shoulders absolutely shaking in laughter. Garrett skated up to Logan and just stared at him, the way you'd stare at a raccoon that had wandered onto the ice.

"Logan," you heard him say, loud enough to carry, "what the fuck."

You put your face in your hands. Hannah was cackling beside you, still filming, tears actually forming. Jules, who was covering the entire game, had to sit down to compose themself.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," you mumbled into your palms.

"He scored for the wrong team for you," Hannah wheezed. "He scored—" she stopped, laughter getting the best of her as she folded over, holding on to you for support.

On the ice, Logan was refusing to make eye contact with anyone, skating back to position like if he moved fast enough, no one could see him. Coach Jensen was yelling something from the bench that involved a lot of pointing and the phrase "are you KIDDING me," along with some very elucidating profanities.

Briar won anyway, thankfully; Garrett's overtime goal saving Logan from further embarrassment, but the locker room, you'd heard, was not kind to him afterwards.

The party after the game felt like a perfectly curated hazing ritual designed to torment Logan alone specifically. You found him by the kitchen, nursing a beer like it had personally wronged him, still getting razzed by literally every guy who walked past.

"Own-goal Logan!" someone shouted from across the room. Logan didn't even flinch; he just closed his eyes like he was praying for the floor to open. Any time now, floor.

You walked up, arms crossed, doing your best to look unimpressed and failing.

"Dude. What the hell."

He turned, and the relief on his face at seeing you, actually seeing you, not a heckler, was almost enough to make you forget you were supposed to be teasing him right now.

"In my defense—"

"This ought to be good."

"—I got excited," he said, like that explained anything. "You were right there, and I panicked, and my brain just went 'shoot', and it did not specify which net. Which, when I say it out loud, I realise makes me sound pathetic."

"It wasn't pathetic, Logan."

"You think so?"

"Okay, maybe like 10% pathetic," you confessed, which pulled a small laugh out of him, "but trust me, for the person, it would've been endearing and adorable," you assured him.

"What about you?" he asked, sounding eager.

"What about me?"

"Was it any of that to you?"

Wow, that was incredibly forward. You hadn't expected him to put you on the spot like that. What were you supposed to say now? The truth? Yes, Logan, despite the fact that it blew up in your face, I thought it was very sweet. God, no. You can't tell him that.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Logan."

"I—" he stopped himself, hand dragging down his face like he could physically wipe the word back in. He laughed, but there was no humour in it, just something a little desperate. "You gotta give me something to work with here. Come on. I just bared my soul out to you, in front of the entire world. Give me something."

"Logan," you said, and you meant for it to come out steady, but it came out tight instead, "whatever you think is going on between you and I, you are incredibly mistaken."

You turned and walked off toward the porch before he could see whatever your face was doing. He followed you. Of course he did.

"Look. Can we talk?"

You sighed, arms wrapping around yourself against the cold, and leaned against the railing. "Go on."

"If you are genuinely not interested in me," he said, and he sounded like he'd rehearsed this part, like it was the only part he'd let himself prepare, "I promise I will stop bothering you. I'll take the hint, I'll back off, whatever you need. But you gotta help me out here, because I feel like I'm losing it a little." He dragged a hand through his hair. "You're giving me all these signals, and I feel like I'm hallucinating them, because one second you're looking at me when you think I don't know. You're at every single one of my games— don't think I haven't noticed. Hannah drags you to maybe half of them, and you still show up to the rest on your own, even when she's not there. You laugh at literally none of my jokes except when you think no one's watching, and then you're full-on wheezing. And then the second I make some kind of move, suddenly I'm the dick here. I'm the guy who overstepped." He spread his hands, helpless. "All I want to know is— am I reading this wrong?"

You closed your eyes for a second. The cold felt like the only honest thing out here. You sighed. Might as well.

"You're not reading it wrong," you said finally. "I... notice you. Okay? I do." You looked at him. "But you gotta give me some credit here. I tried really hard not to."

"Wow." He let out a short breath, almost a laugh, except it landed more like a flinch. "What is so awful about me?"

"That's not— I didn't mean it like that." You pressed the heel of your hand against your eye, frustrated at yourself now, at how badly this was coming out. "It's just — I can't just be another notch in your belt, Logan. I can't be your rebound."

His whole face changed. "Whoa. What rebound?"

"Come on, Logan. I'm not stupid. I know you like Hannah. And it's not your fault, she's very—"

"Yeah—no— I'm gonna stop you right there. What?"

"You know... you like Hannah?" you asked, sounding unsure based on his reaction.

"I assure you, that is not true."

"Dude, come on." You threw your hands up, some of the frustration finally spilling out. "Every single room you're in, you're looking for her. You see her, and suddenly it's Christmas! You just talk to her the whole time, and you get this light in your eye, and you look all adorable and—" you stopped, hearing yourself a second too late, "—god, I wish I'd stopped talking about a minute ago."

He sighed, dragging both hands down his face this time. "Okay. At the risk of sounding pathetic, here goes." He looked at you like he was bracing for impact. "I was looking for her because she was helping me ask you out." You stood there in shock. You were having trouble processing that information.

"We were talking about you. I was nervous, and I wanted to get it right, and— well, in retrospect that backfired splendidly," he gestured vaguely toward the direction of the house, like the hecklers and "own-goal Logan" were still hovering somewhere over his shoulder, "but the idea was, she'd tell me stuff about you— things you liked, whatever— and I'd come up with genius ways to ask you out." He spread his arms, mock-triumphant. "Clearly it worked, because we're on my front porch arguing. So— yay. Go Logan, I guess."

Your brain finally caught up with your mouth. "I—Uh, Wow. Okay." You blinked. "So— just to double-check— I am not a rebound?"

"Baby." He said it like it physically pained him that you'd thought otherwise, closing the distance between you. "Not even close."

"Oh, thank god," you breathed, and then you didn't give yourself time to think about it— you grabbed his jacket and pulled him in.

He made a small, surprised sound against your mouth before he caught up, one hand coming up to your jaw like he still couldn't quite believe this was real and needed to check. He walked you back a step until your shoulders met the porch post, one hand braced against the wood beside your head, the other still cradling your jaw, tilting it just slightly to get the angle he wanted.

You felt him exhale against your mouth right before the kiss deepened, unhurried but certain, and you fisted your other hand in the front of his shirt just to have something to hold onto, because your knees had developed some very inconvenient opinions about standing on their own. His tongue slid over yours as he found an angle that worked, pulling a sound from you that did things to him.

Somewhere behind you, a wolf whistle cut through the night, loud and delighted. You broke apart to find Kylie leaning out the porch door, drink in hand, absolutely beaming.

"Yeahhh, go Logan!!" she hollered, pumping a fist. "She likes you back!!"

Logan dropped his forehead against yours, laughing, equal parts mortified and thrilled. "Does nothing happen around here in private?"

"Apparently not," you said, grinning, "own-goal Logan."

"We are never speaking of that again."

"Oh, absolutely, we are. For the rest of your life."